


Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon)

by artistic-writer (Itrustyoutokillme)



Series: Wolves of Misthaven [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternative Werewolf Lore, CSSNS, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Explicit sexual themes, F/M, Falling In Love, Lady and The Tramp AU, Romance, Smut, Torture, Werewolf AU, captain swan supernatural summer fic, everyone is a werewolf except ruby and elsa, killian!whump, pack rivalry with a love story, wolves of misthaven, wolves of neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 155,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/artistic-writer
Summary: Book 1: Mongrel Killian Jones, packless and alone, finds Emma by chance in a bar, but she neglects to mention she is running away from her pack responsibilities...responsibilities that her strict father and alpha, David Nolan, expects of his only child and heir to the Misthaven pack. None of which include falling in love with a mongrel. Loosely based Lady and the Tramp AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my contribution for the @cssns ! This is a multi chapter fic that has been in the planning for a long time. Massive thanks to my wonderful beta, @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted and @hookedonapirate, who i am sure hates tenses and dreams now thanks to me. Without your constant encouragement I would have probably given up on this fic already. Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. The BIGGEST thank you to @cocohook38 who, after I had finished fangirling over the fact she was my artist, has gone out of her way to make some of the most amazing fanart, illustrations and chapter covers for this fic - I am amazed and so humbled! And to @flipperbrain who drew art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Set back far from the road, along a pothole ridden dirt track, was Misthaven. It was a grand house, multi story with an eclectic mixture of modern and older architecture that set the house apart from anywhere else. In the summertime, the surrounding grass would make way for meadow flowers that sprang up from the ground and enveloped the whole estate in a blanket of blue and white. Surrounding the main lawns was the woodland that came with the house, trees as tall as the sky and as dark as night for as far as the eye could see.

There was an old grandfather clock in the hall to the house, standing steadfast against the wall and standing the test of time. It had been passed through no less than seven generation of Nolan men, and Emma had always remembered that her grandfather used to tell her stories when she was a child, always including the warm, wooden furniture as if it were some magical piece of history. In reality, Emma knew it was nothing more than a clock, ticking away the seconds of her life, its bulk a symbol of her defiance.

Emma Nolan was an only child, born pure of blood and whelped in a one-pup litter. Her parents, David Nolan and his wife Mary Margaret were pureblood too, the product of generations of breeding that created stronger, faster offspring who had so far been successful in maintaining a stronghold over the werewolf community. That was, until the death of the fairest pack leader Misthaven had ever known threw his twin sons into a power hungry struggle for dominance.

Pack law stated that once an alpha was defeated in battle, his title and everything associated with his prestige would pass onto his victor. As archaic as it sounded, it was upheld, and losing a challenge for superiority was an alpha’s worst nightmare. Not only would they have to give up their power and influence over the community they oversaw, but they would also have to give up their home, loyal followers and would have to leave the place they called home forever. They would be exiled with the mongrels, shunned by their own, losing all breeding privileges and destined to slowly watch their family names die out as outcasts.

But when an alpha dies simply of natural causes, it falls on his eldest pureblood child to take up the mantle. If they are a female, they must be married, or the pack will nominate a high ranking pack member to enter into an arranged marriage with her; the idea of strength and unity was one that so often could not be shaken. If they are male, they are free to lead as alpha, choosing their own path and mate in good time. But when David’s father died, he left not one but two pureblood progeny.

David and James were twins, whelped as pups at exactly the same time, sharing an embryotic sack and leaving their mother at exactly the same moment in time. This meant that by rights, both had a claim on Misthaven, and even though David was the far superior wolf, leaner, stronger and far more level-headed than his brother ever would be, James was blinded by the greed of power, and challenged David to a fight for the position of alpha. It was a fight that he lost in no less than two minutes, his fate sealed as a mongrel in exile thereafter and the hatred for his brother growing more and more each day.

Despite his years of exile, David was fair to his brother and only sibling, offering James the chance to start his own pack in another state. That was the only way he could gain power, and even though it was never the title he was ultimately entitled to, James took the offer. He was to stay away from Misthaven and anything to do with David’s pack at all times, ensuring that their paths never crossed unless he was summoned for political reasons or in the greater interests of wolf kind.

There were few instances that meant David would ever call upon his brother, but as family, it was expected of him to attend the wedding of his only niece, and so James had answered his brother’s summons and set out for Misthaven. It had been nearly thirty years since he had last set foot onto the sacred turf of his childhood home, and as he stepped from the expensive black SUV, James surveyed the property with a mixture of pride and distaste.

“This place could have been so much more,” he huffed, dismissively brushing some fluff from the shoulder of his suit jacket, “if I had taken place as the alpha.”

The sound of a car door slammed behind him and James turned to see his right-hand man standing beside the driver’s side door.

Walsh pulled the dark sunglasses from his face and folded them between his fingers, quickly tucking them into the pocket of his jacket. There was less sun here than in their home state, the sombre atmosphere surrounding the entire state setting cold and damp into his bones. “Is this it?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” James agreed with a slow nod. “This is Misthaven.”

Walsh twisted his features into a grimace as he tried to think of the words to describe his boss’s childhood home, which was also the home of their greatest opposition. “It’s…big,” he managed weakly, shrugging. “Why are we here again?” he asked dumbly.

“My niece is to be married,” James barked, slightly annoyed. “Pack law...blah blah…”

“Ah,” Walsh sounded with a sigh. It made him nervous just setting foot onto the pea-sized gravel driveway of the man who had banished his boss three decades ago, let alone meeting to discuss the conditions of them attending the wedding.

“And we have to show our good intentions,” James said with a smirk. “So when we crush David and his family, they will never see it coming.”

As if he had heard them, David appeared on the expansive front porch, exiting the huge double doorway and stepping forward into the overcast light of day. He stood with his hands in his pockets - a conscious effort to seem neutral, James thought; his features and demeanor having changed little since they had last crossed paths. James looked upon his brother with a narrowed gaze, sizing him up. David was noticeably larger than he had remembered, his brother’s broad shoulders much wider than his own and his biceps bulging against the material of his shirt. His face was unchanged, maybe a little more leathery and with a few more fading scars, and his hair was dusted with silver that was more prominent around his ears.

“Is that him?” Walsh asked softly, stepping closer to James so David could not hear his words. James smiled, reflecting that of his brother, who had clearly heard the exchange with his heightened hearing and had moved to fold his arms over his chest in a display of dominance.

James nodded, keeping eye contact with his twin as David’s daughter and the bride to be stepped from behind her father. Emma was as imposing in presence as her father, identical in her posture and stern bravado that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. James had not seen her for over twenty years, since the last council meeting, and she was a far cry from the small, skinny, blonde-haired girl who he’d once met.

“Is that her?” Walsh stared at Emma, shuffling his weight uncomfortably on the stones beneath his boots. He was dumbfounded by her beauty, his jaw dropping open and his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth like a cartoon mutt. A slip of wind whipped at her long, golden tresses and tossed it backward over her shoulder as she gazed at them with a murderous look in her eyes. Walsh tilted his head back, sticking his nose into the air and inhaling hard, his eyes fluttering closed as he gulped down her scent on a gust of wind that had carried her fragrance down the driveway.

“Down boy,” James warned, buttoning his suit jacket at the front and tugging at the white cuffs of his shirt which poked from his sleeves. It had not escaped his attention that David’s jaw had clenched at Walsh’s display. “Lest you upset the alpha,” he bit out darkly as he struggled to say the words with anything but hatred.

“Yes sir,” Walsh said flatly, falling in line behind James as he made his way up towards the house.

“James,” David greeted awkwardly. He extended a stiff arm to his brother who, after so long, had become more of a stranger with darkness in his heart. James took his offered hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

“This is Walsh, my number two.” James let his hand slip from David’s and motioned towards the man beside him.

David took in the shorter man, letting his eyes roam over his weirdly wide shoulders, pin-like neck and pointed nose. He had an instant hatred for his floppy brown hair that made him look like the outcast stray he was, and when Walsh offered him his hand, David squeezed maybe a little tighter than he should have. “Nice to meet you,” David lied, pinching Walsh’s hand even firmer between his when the man’s gaze wandered towards Emma at his side.

“And this must be Emma,” James sighed with a tiny bit of pride. “It’s been a long time.” He smiled at her warmly, but Emma didn’t uncross her arms to greet him like he expected.

Emma looked away from her uncle, noticing a raised patch of skin on Walsh’s throat. “Where did you get the scar?” she enquired, motioning towards his scar with a nod of her head.

“Now, Emma,” David warned with a tight-lipped smile. “Be nice.”

Emma shrugged. “Just asking,” she huffed, quirking her eyebrow and turning away from the men, stalking back into the house.

“She’s feisty,” James noted with a grin. “I’m sure she gets that from you, brother.”

David laughed a stifled snort through his nose. Pack law dictated that alphas were not permitted to interact with the mates of other alphas, so James had never met the tenacious woman he called his wife. “You have never met her mother.”

James laughed with him, but the whole atmosphere on the porch was a little tense. There was nothing but animosity between the brothers and there was a layer of tension that hung thick in the air and made everyone around them uncomfortable.

“Does she know?” James asked quickly, lowering his voice.

David shook his head and plunged his hands back into his pockets. “Not yet,” he admitted.

James’ face lit up a little at the possibility of a crack forming between the bonds of the Nolan pack. If Emma didn’t know she was to be married, and this would be the first she would hear of it, then this meeting just might be the highlight of his year. “Shall we?” he prompted gently and David turned sideways, motioning him into the house with an extended hand. James followed his direction with a nod of thanks and walked through the huge oak doorway into the darkened reception area of the house.

Walsh moved to follow his boss, but David stepped between him and the doorway, pressing his huge hand to Walsh’s chest and digging his fingers into the planes on his torso. Walsh stopped dead, his feet bumping into David, who did not move a single inch from the impact. Walsh looked up, real fear in his eyes, the prick of heat and the beads of sweat soaking the shirt underneath his jacket.

“Where did you get the scar?” David whispered darkly, echoing his daughter’s words of intrigue, only his tone was more demanding. His eyes flickered over Walsh’s face and down to the scar, the white, lumpy skin long since healed, but clearly a bite wound.

“A mongrel,” Walsh gulped.

David raised an eyebrow, almost impressed. “Did you kill it?”

“No, it got away.” Walsh swallowed hard again, panic setting into his bones. “I’m sorry.”

The code by which werewolves lived their lives was very clear. It was a structured set of rules that every pureblood followed in order to survive, regardless of conflict between packs; the greater good was always the end game. Mongrels were half breeds, hybrids between werewolf and humans, who belonged with no pack and generally lived a life outside of pack culture. They were more like humans who didn’t fit in, and unless they posed a threat to werewolf society, either by threatening to expose them to humans or attacking purebloods, they were left to their own miserable existence.

Mongrels could never breed with a pureblood, destined to procreate with only humans, which would always result in a human child. They would be the last of their line, their werewolf genetics dying out in the child, who would show no signs of ever being supernatural. They may be more successful in their lives, having a slight edge over their competition, but this only ever really manifested itself in sports and other competitive professions.

No mongrel had ever, in the entire stretch of time surrounding werewolf lore and traditions, been permitted to marry into a pack. And for the good of werewolf kind everywhere, they never would.

David moved his hand from Walsh’s chest and slid it around the back of his neck, his long fingers gripping at the sinew there and pulling Walsh’s head beside his. David’s thumb brushed over the scar on his throat and he purposefully dug it into the raised flesh until Walsh winced uncomfortably, the leer at Emma not having gone unnoticed. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and dark, his dominance over all werewolves clear by the tone of his voice. “Next time it won’t.”

David gave Walsh’s face a playful slap, his face erupting into a wide, boyish smile that many a werewolf had made the mistake of misreading as kindness. Walsh knew better and just shook his head in response, breezing past David with his head held low when he motioned him through the door before he followed behind.

James was in the lounge with Emma but they stood on opposite sides of the huge, square room. Walsh joined James immediately, straightening his jacket as he did so and offering his boss a sheepish glare when James noticed his sudden nervous nature. They had all been joined by Graham, David’s beta, who had been orphaned as a pup and sent to live with David and Mary Margaret because no one in his Irish pack wanted him around.

Graham’s father was American and had found love with his mother, much to the disgust of her very traditional Irish pack. Like many pack marriages, they were arranged by the alphas for the unification of packs, and they had been wed to try and mend a long and very time consuming rift. It also helped that Mary Margaret’s cousin was his father and her marriage to David had solidified his integrity. However, not long after Graham turned nine, his parents were killed by hunters when they had unexpectedly strayed onto farmland as wolves, and the pack saw it fit to ship Graham off to America to rid their pack of his ‘filthy foreign blood’.

It hadn’t mattered one bit to David about his beta’s lineage. He was pureblood, with a heart of gold and a fiery temper fuelled by his hatred for his old pack, who could get the job done when he needed him too. He had been at his side since Graham’s early human teens when David had supported him through his puberty and first change as if he were his own son.

Werewolves had two birthdays. One, known as their human day, along with many other human qualities was the day they were physically born. Even as purebloods, they had to blend into society so as not to arouse suspicion, and used their birthday to indicate their ages as if they were human. The other, known as their wolf day, was to celebrate the day they first turned, which normally coincided with human puberty and usually occurred at the human age of ten. And now, as Emma approached her eighteenth wolf year, she was to be married to Graham to secure both of their places as pack betas.

Only, Emma didn’t know yet. And neither did Graham.

“Thank you for coming,” David said more formally as he followed Walsh into the room. The crackle of the fire as logs popped in the flames was the only sound, other than David’s voice, as everyone kept quiet for the alpha. He stalked towards the fireplace, joining Graham and Emma on that side of the room, a clear divide between the packs evident. “Graham is my beta,” David introduced him finally, slapping his shoulder with pride. “Graham, this is my brother James and his beta, Walsh.”

Graham looked between the two men as he leaned on the mantelpiece and nodded. “Pleasure,” Graham grunted coldly, the scent of both of the wolves before him causing him nothing but offense. They smelled dirty, like mongrels, and he was a little irritated that the whole purpose of this whole meeting was to announce a wedding. The only logical reason for them to be present was so that Emma would be wed to Walsh, and the idea made his skin crawl.

“You know pack law,” James said casually as he walked around his side of the room, taking in the dated decor of Misthaven and turning up his nose at what his brother had let it become. “I have to be here,” he shrugged.

“Indeed,” David agreed and took a breath. James was right, and because twins were rare in the werewolf world, this had never happened in their lifetime, but in the event of an arranged marriage, both of the rightful heirs to Misthaven had to be present at the announcement. It was old and archaic, but it was how things had always been. They both had to agree to the union, even if one of the twins were the leader of another pack. And James couldn’t care less who Emma married, as his main reason for agreeing to this meeting was to use the time to run reconnaissance of Misthaven and the Nolans.

He had bigger plans for them.

“Emma,” David whispered softly, shaking Emma from her daydream and making her look away from the mesmerizing flicker of the log fire. “Do you know why we are here?”

“It’s got to be big,” she surmised. “Why else would they be here?” The feud between David and James had been long standing and even though it had begun before she was even born, Emma and most of the Misthaven pack knew about it. There were very few times David would ever invite his brother back to Misthaven, even Emma knew that.

James smirked to himself, running a finger over his lips to hide the twitch of a smile. “She’s a smart one too,” James noted, more to himself than anyone else.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” Emma growled, taking a step towards her uncle with fire in her veins. Graham took a step a second before her, blocking her path and giving her a blue-eyed stare.

“Watch it, Barbie,” Walsh spat, stepping between her and his alpha.

“Hey!” David’s voice boomed around the room. “Enough.” Emma shrunk back, shaking off Graham’s grip and turning away from them to stare back into the fire.

“With all due respect,” Graham said softly, leaning into David’s ear, his thick accent wrapping around the words as they left his mouth. Even after all of his time in America, Graham had never lost his Irish tones. “We should get this announcement out of the way before Emma…”

David cut him off with a raised hand and a nod of understanding. “Emma, do you know why you are here for this meeting?” David asked his daughter slowly, never taking his eyes from James as he skulked around in the shadows of the room.

“Protection?” Emma scoffed and David smiled. Emma was a formidable fighter, just like her mother, and she had honed her skills with hours and hours of practice fights as she had grown. Sometimes he would fight her, and sometimes he would pit her against Graham, but she nearly always won, even if she did suspect he’d always let her.

“Not quite,” David told her, giving her hand a squeeze as he walked past her. “As you know, you are coming up to your eighteenth wolf year, and that means a suitable mate has been chosen for you to secure your place as beta of a pack.”

Emma screwed up her face and her gaze darted towards Walsh. His monkey-like grin angered her even more, and she wondered how fast she could make it across the room and rip the primate’s throat out.

“Dad, I’ve told you, I’m not ready to get married,” Emma softened her tone in the hopes of appealing to her father, rather than the alpha who lived every pack law to the letter.

“And I’ve told you, that is not for you to decide,” David’s tone changed instantly, and a flush of adrenaline washed over Emma at her father’s sudden uncharacteristic aggression. She looked at Graham, her long time friend and surrogate brother who could have helped her out of any other situation, but all he could do in this instance was give her a sad shake of his head and look at the floor.

“Oh, this should be fun,” Walsh giggled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Like an imp, he craved chaos, as did most of James’ pack, and for a terrifying second, Emma thought he may have been her chosen mate. But the next words out of her father’s mouth left her cold, shaken to the point of almost throwing up and confused.

“You are to marry Graham,” David announced to the room.

“Graham?” Emma screeched in disgust.

“Me?” Graham squeaked at the same time, both of them looking at each other in confusion.

“I have thought about this for many months,” David continued, ignoring their apparent protests about the other. “There are no suitable candidates from other packs, and our relationship with most of our rivals is currently very strong, so this seemed like a good option.”

“A good option?” Emma almost screamed at him as she took an unconscious step from Graham. “This isn’t a good option.”

“Hey,” Graham frowned, offended.

“No offense,” Emma added as if reading his mind.

“None taken,” Graham scowled, absolutely vexed.

“Graham is a strong wolf and a good man,” David told her firmly. “He would make a fine husband.”

“Yeah, if he weren’t like my brother!” Emma laughed nervously as she ran a shaking palm over her forehead. It felt clammy, but she wasn’t sure if it were due to the shock or the anger.

“Sir, if I may?” Graham asked, but David shook his head and gave him a dark stare that warned Graham about overstepping the mark.

“You may not,” David said coldly, turning from Graham when he was satisfied that his beta knew his place. “And as for you,” David growled in Emma’s direction, “you will marry Graham. Pack law dictates you will marry whomever your alpha sees fit, and I am your alpha…”

“How could I forget?” Emma snapped, interrupting him, but instantly regretting it. His daughter or not, this wasn’t her father she was talking to right now, and Emma could be punished severely for her insubordination.

“This isn’t a discussion, Emma,” David snarled gruffly, moving to stand in front of Graham by the fire. Graham looked up at his alpha sheepishly when he extended his hand to him - the unspoken seal of any contract offered by the alpha.

“Don’t,” Emma begged him, shaking her head from side to side as the sting of tears began to prick at her eyelids. “Graham, please.”

David looked into Graham’s eyes, his hand frozen between them, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Graham was trapped, like a rabbit on a hunt, between a rock and a hard place. David was his alpha and he had sworn his loyalty to him and his family, which included carrying out any task or bidding his alpha saw fit. Only, this wasn’t just a run of the mill contract he was asking him to fulfill. This would make his alpha very happy, but it would rip the heart of the woman he had come to love as a sister in two.

With a heavy heart, Graham accepted David’s proposal and shook his hand, the sound of Emma’s wails filling his ears as she ran from the room, slammed the huge, wooden doors shut behind her and ran from Misthaven.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma had ran, metaphorically and physically. She had jumped into her truck, tearing down the interstate as fast as her dated pick-up would go, weaving in and out of traffic until she was far enough away from Misthaven to think clearly again. Only, it hadn’t worked, so when she was clear of the bustle of traffic and the lights of the highway, Emma had found the first forested area she had seen since crossing state lines to run some more.

Being a werewolf was more than she had ever realised. Her father had talked at great length about pack law and what would be expected of her, but she had never taken him for the sort of man to enact it so cruelly. Emma never thought her father would force her into marriage, and maybe he was doing her a favour by considering someone she already knew, but this wasn’t about Graham. This was about the fact that she was a young, spirited individual with thoughts and feelings of her own, and she would rather die than be tied down by what her father wanted.

Being a werewolf also afforded her the freedom to express those feelings. One of Emma’s favourite things to do when she was stressed or needed to blow off some steam was to run. 

The truck skidded to a halt on the old dirt road, and she couldn’t tear the clothes from her body quick enough, throwing open the door and discarding them as she walked away from the truck. Illuminated by its headlights, she disappeared into the silence of the forest.

There was a human belief that in order to change into a wolf, a person cursed with being a werewolf had to wait until a full moon. In reality, those pure of blood and born of werewolves, living their lives amongst humans every day, needed nothing more than the will to change and the privacy to do so. The blue hue of the full moon above her gave Emma just enough light to watch where she was walking, leaves rustling under each step and senses peaking to the maximum ability as she changed.

Emma would never forget the first time she had changed into her wolf form. She was eleven when the shift of bones under her skin, cracking and repositioning into the four legged skeleton of a canine, was one of the most painful things she had ever experienced. Until that moment, during her wolf puberty, Emma had only even felt the pain associated with injury as a human and whilst being a wolf made her less susceptible to pain, getting there was agony.

Or it had been. Much like a conditioning exercise, the more frequently a werewolf changed from human to wolf form, the easier it became. Muscles and ligaments became stretched, tearing and reforming scar tissue to create enlarged muscles, which was one of the reasons for the immense strength exhibited by werewolves. There were times, generally only during the change of mongrels, where the human body could not take the stress and strain of the change and the host would expire, but a pureblood had never died from it yet.

After seventeen years of shifting, Emma’s body was a machine, primed and ready to change in an instant. She had learned to control it well whilst so many of her kind had struggled with the associated rage and unpredictability of turning. Some were triggered into a change by panic, others by fear and some even by love. Emma’s parents had taught her to control her abilities to avoid mishaps with humans as she grew, and for that at least, she was thankful.

With a low grunt, Emma dropped to her knees, falling forward onto her hands and closing her eyes tightly. Her bones twisted and popped under her skin, muscles rearranging and limbs extending. Long black nails replaced her short manicured ones, and her entire skin itched with the sprouting of her fur, which was a mixture of the black banded agouti, just like her father, only with a far more prominent red colour to her tan pigment. She had inherited her mother’s green eyes and they shone like sea green stones against the black hairs that masked her face.

As a wolf, Emma felt free. No one recognised her blonde hair or the way she walked. As a wolf she was her own being, a spirit free to race through the trees at a full canter, dodging and weaving through the creaking woodlands with just the sound of her pants filling her ears. It was rare, unless she was running with family, to come across another werewolf. Wolves were a fixture of the forest, but they generally accepted the fact that a werewolf was far stronger and more intelligent than themselves, and was something to be feared. 

So when she leapt over an overhanging crag and skidded to a halt on the littered forest floor, she wasn’t expecting the blue eyes staring back at her to be werewolf in origin, or for him to remain still. But they were and he did, and she instantly took stock of the blackest fur she had ever seen, the moonlight above them doing little to penetrate the layers of darkness in his pelt that accented his eyes like the bluest topaz stones she had ever seen.

He flinched backwards, his huge paws disturbing the twigs around them as the hackles on the back of his neck sprung upwards in an attempt to make himself appear larger. He was a medium sized wolf, nowhere near as large as her father or Graham, and Emma kept a wide-eyed stare on him as she approached him, not intimidated by his display of faux dominance at all. She could tell he was alone, no pack in sight, and that he was fearful of her. She could smell it.

Emma could also see, despite his ruggedly handsome exterior, he was battle worn. A patch of missing fur on his right cheek indicated an old injury that had left a scar after it had healed, maring his masculine features with the blemish. The tips of his fur had begun to glow under the moonlight as he shifted into a beam that had found its way through the trees, but he looked young, and so the obvious explanation for the pigment loss in his pelt was from fighting. It was not unusual for patches of white or grey hair to appear following damage by teeth or claws, and Emma heaved a sigh at the wolf before her. He was a fighter and a survivor and for a second, she flushed with trepidation.

Her father had always told her to never approach another wolf, especially one that was unknown and held the scars of such a hard life, but the young male before her, despite his traits, seemed gentle. He had kind eyes, almond shaped and relaxed, and after his initial hesitation, he bowed his head and let his jaw drop open to pant in her direction. His ears swiveled back on his head as Emma approached, her steps dainty despite her size, and as her nose bumped his in the darkness, his tail flicked sideways in a half wag of excitement.

For a second, they simply stared at each other, noses twitching and soft whines filling the clearing they had found themselves in. The soft hoot of an owl echoed in the trees above them, but they both ignored it, content to simply inch sideways in an attempt to size up and sniff at the other. Emma moved first, surging forward in an attempt to get a smell of the stranger, but he jumped sideways, a low growl escaping his throat. Taken back she stopped, stiffened and fought her flight response.

The male stopped too, stepping back surprised in the detritus, the leaves crackling under the weight of his paws. He lifted his tail and it curled softly over his back like a black brush, the tip swaying against the now lowered fur on his back. Watching him cautiously, unsure what to expect, she heard the low growl once more as he dropped to his elbows and offered her a playful bow.

If Emma didn’t know better, she would say he was grinning too. His tongue lolled out of the side of his maw, the white of his teeth glinting in the moonlight like the playful spark in his eyes. Without even realising it, Emma’s tail had started a rhythmic wag again, hanging in a relaxed position that brushed over her hocks as it swished from side to side. She licked at her lips, and the stranger sank his rump to the ground as if waiting for her to make the next move, staring at her eagerly with the same playful wolf smirk.

Emma stepped forward, fighting her tentativeness. She didn't know how, but she knew this wolf was not to be feared. She knew he would not hurt her and simply wanted to get to know her. As if he could read her mind, he whimpered excitedly, ears flattening on his head and tail brushing itself through the fallen debris of the forest. When she almost touched his nose again, he rolled over, exposing his delicate belly which was covered in fur as dark as his back. 

It was the ultimate submissive behaviour, and if she so wished, Emma could have killed him right there. He knew it, and she knew it, but for some reason he trusted her enough to show the only part of him that wasn’t littered in scars and yet the most delicate. It was like a human holding out their heart for someone, fragile and so easily crushable by the simplest of words or actions. The stranger pawed at the underside of her face and his tongue darted out to lick at her jaw, his fur picking up sticks and leaves as he writhed around.

Her walls crumbled as Emma finally softened, permitting herself enough freedom to arch her neck and sniff at his ears. They were soft against the leathery exterior of her nose, every single scent receptor invaded by his smell - a masculine mix of the sea and woods. She pushed so hard against his head, eager to memorize his distinctive scent, that she lost her balance, toppling forward and rolling over him. He rolled with her, the forest floor awash with a combination of silver flashed black and the fiery red of their pelts, legs tangling together as they scrambled to right themselves. When they did, they jumped apart, both shyly looking away from the other with a sideways glance and their tails between their legs.

The owl called out overhead once more and its mate replied, causing Emma to look away from the blue-eyed stranger in front of her for only a split second, but it was long enough. With a twig snapping softly, she looked back from the canopy above, and he was gone, silently disappearing into the night as quickly as he had appeared. Emma let out a high pitched whine, the sudden feeling of lost companionship as a wolf something she could only hide as a human. She lifted her head, nose twitching in the cold night air, but he was not there. The mix of driftwood and salt was replaced by the fragrance of the night, and his scent was nowhere to be found in the gentle breeze that whipped around her in the forest clearing.

\--

“She should have come home by now,” David huffed, his voice low and his words vibrating from deep in his throat. “It was a full moon last night,” he said, staring out the window across the neatly trimmed lawns of Misthaven.

“So?” Mary Margaret shrugged casually. She was stirring a thin metal spoon through two cups of tea, the sweet, sugary liquid creating a vortex around the cutlery. “Emma is a smart woman and an even more intelligent wolf. It’s not the first time she hasn’t come home.”

“It’s the first time I’ve been the reason,” David said sadly, turning to finally face his wife. Age had been good to him, his features still as handsome as Mary Margaret remembered, and she offered him a smile. 

“David,” she chastised gently, wrapping her hands around one of the mugs gently steaming away before her, and letting the swirl of orange liquid slow as she lifted it. She held it out for him and he approached the kitchen island, his lips twitching sideways into a weak smile. “You are a great father.”

David took the mug from her and rearranged it in his hands so he was gripping the handle. “Am I, Snow?” He furrowed his brow, really questioning his decision for the first time since yesterday. “Maybe I should have talked to Emma first.”

Snow leaned forward on the counter and lifted herself onto one of the tall wooden barstools, promptly plopping her face into her hands. She twisted her smile, raising a single eyebrow at David who tried to look away. He might be the alpha male but Mary Margaret was definitely in charge. 

It had taken David several attempts, in both human and wolf form, to try and make it up to Snow. As alpha, he could marry anyone he wanted, and he wanted Mary Margaret. Only, she was prickly and rebuffed his advances, playing hard to get, which only made David want her even more. Eventually she softened, impressed with his size, strength and leadership skills as both a man and a wolf. It seemed no matter what form a being takes, the fundamental urges of what drives them to want to procreate are all the same. David was physically strong and he could protect her and any offspring they had and more importantly, he loved her unconditionally.

He had asked her to marry him in human form, but she had neglected to answer him, unsure if she could commit to the role of alpha female. It came with great responsibilities, most importantly providing an heir, and at twenty three, Mary Margaret wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet. They courted for two more years before, under the light of a half moon at the very back of the Misthaven woodland, Snow had lifted her tail over her back, signalling to David her willingness to breed and gave David the answer he had longed for.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded nervously, averting his gaze shiftily.

“Well, you will say such ridiculous things,” she teased, lacing her fingers together around her mug. The fall had crept into Misthaven without warning and the temperature in the extensive old house had fallen, the chill in the air permeating through her bones.

“Snow, you know how I feel,” David used her pet name again, one that he had given to her after the first time he had seen her shift. Her wolf pelt was much lighter than any he had ever seen before, except on their North American cousins, and when they had changed back to human form, he had told her she reminded him of snow. She’d called him charming before giving him the cold shoulder for months, offended by his remark.

“And so does Emma. She knows how you feel and she knows you love her and only want what is best for her,” Snow appeased and took a sip of the scalding tea.

“So why does she continue to fight the pack law?” David found himself gritting his teeth resentfully, the muscles bulging along his chiseled jaw.

“Emma is spirited, you know that,” Snow said softly.

“Well she shouldn’t be,” David grumbled. “She is our daughter, destined to be a beta at our side. She has a place in the pack, she just needs to embrace it.”

“With Graham?” Snow arched her brow a little. 

“Of course with Graham,” David frowned. “I cannot think of anyone I would rather take her hand in marriage.”

“Maybe Emma can,” Snow offered. It was not her place to offer pack advice, but marital advice was a given. “I can see her point.” Snow shrugged, and David looked at her confused. “Why she ran, I mean.” She sipped her tea again, the sweet drink coating her throat and warming her belly.

“Go on,” David prompted, lifting his own cup to his lips.

“Graham is family. They grew up together. It would be like marrying her brother,” Snow told him with a disgusted look on her face. “Werewolves have evolved beyond line breeding, David, you know that.”

“Well, it’s not, technically…” David began but he was interrupted by her sudden burst of laughter.

“David!” she chuckled. “Listen to yourself. You are trying to justify marrying our daughter to somebody she loves like a sibling.”

“If pack law dictates we choose her a mate, then I choose Graham.” David shrugged.

“Great. What do you think will happen on their wedding night, hmm?” Snow prompted. “I’m not sure Emma would be as keen as Graham to...you know.”

“Why not? Graham is young, virile and handsome. Any she-wolf would be lucky to have his hand in marriage.”

“Ugh, David, stop. You sound like you ate the Chronicle.” The Chronicle was the werewolf holy text, the centuries old written guidelines for living as a werewolf in human society. It was very clear when it came to pack status, and if Emma was to remain in her parents’ pack, she would have to marry a mate of their choosing. It was old-fashioned in nature, but The Chronicle was written with the belief that only the alpha possessed the true knowledge of character and would be responsible for his offspring’s fate.

“David,” Snow gained his attention once more with a teacher-like voice. He looked over at her and waited for her words, which would inevitably be correct. “You raised Emma to be the person she is today. Loyal, loving and protective of her pack. She knows what is expected of her; you have always been truthful with her in regards that.”

“So why did she run?” David asked sadly, the worry inside his heart for his daughter evident in his voice. 

There was a reason Snow and David only had one child. Werewolves, being part human and part wolf, generally reproduced by combining the two species’ traits. A she-wolf would have periods as regularly as a human would, but would never get pregnant from intercourse unless she was experiencing her wolf heat. This happened less frequently, and many she-wolves would have to fight off any males that got a whiff of their scent, mostly choosing to stick to human form where the pheromones were less potent. 

During pregnancy, they would often have just one child, but always in human form and with a much shorter gestation. When Snow and David found out they were expecting, they were not shocked, but what did scare them was when a doctor told Snow she was expecting triplets. They blamed David’s genetics, because he was a twin, but the diagnosis was laced with sadness. She-wolves cannot carry more than one child to term, and there had only ever been two cases of twins being delivered alive documented in The Chronicle. Triplets would certainly have meant a death sentence for Snow.

It was with a heavy heart that the Nolans decided to abort their litter, and follow-up testing revealed that Snow was then barren and would never carry any more children. They were devastated, crushed beyond belief, and Snow felt ashamed of being the wife of an alpha she couldn’t provide with an heir. David didn’t care, he loved her either way, and in their grief of the whole situation, Snow had neglected to take the pregnancy test the hospital had instructed her to take two weeks after her abortion.

Five months later, a little smaller than a usual cub, Emma was born kicking and screaming on a cold, stormy October night in Misthaven. Snow had felt a few cramps, attributing it to her human period, only to suddenly go into full blown labour whilst in bed. David had delivered his own daughter, his first born and his sole heir at the stroke of midnight under the light of a half moon. Ever since, he had tried his hardest to protect her, teach her and guide her in life as a werewolf and a woman.

Snow gave him a calming smile. “The only reason she ran is because she knows you are right.” She nodded, taking another sip of her milky tea.

David sighed, rubbing his hand over the side of his face and scraping his nails through his stubble. “Why does she have to be so stubborn?”

“Hmmm,” Snow smirked playfully. “Remind you of anyone we know?”

David rolled his eyes. “I am _not_ stubborn,” he said firmly.

“Well, she doesn’t get it from me!” Snow laughed, stretching back in her stool. “She’ll come home,” she said seriously, reaching over to lay her hand over David’s.

David looked at their hands, fingers intertwining on the counter and lifted them to his mouth, kissing Snow’s fingertips delicately. There was nothing but love in his actions, and Snow was the only one who saw it. David had to be the big bad wolf to protect his position as alpha, and sometimes he felt silly and wished his wife could be at his side. Instead she was to stay out of sight, protected by anonymity from those who would seek to hurt him. Her true identity was only known within their pack and it gave David comfort knowing if anything did ever happen to Snow, he wouldn't have far to go for his revenge.

“I hope so,” he sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma meets Killian in human form!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who has done a fantastic job keeping my rabble in line, and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted. Without your constant encouragement I would have probably given up on this fic already. Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on.

Emma awoke to the sound of rain on the hood of her truck, the droplets as big as pennies as they pounded the rusting metal. After she had ran off her rage and frustration, she had trotted back to her truck and curled into a ball under the still warm engine bay, tucking her nose under her tail as she drifted off to the memory of the strange wolf with azure eyes. Not only did he interrupt her run, but he also invaded her thoughts, her subconscious drawing up all sorts of images of him as a man that just left her with the hope of meeting him again.

For the first time in her life, Emma had let herself think about the possibility of being someone other than what was expected of her. She loved her family and her pack, but the way the stranger had made her feel, like just a she-wolf with no pack obligations or expectations, had her reeling. How was she supposed to go back to Misthaven and marry Graham? How was she supposed to be a beta without the carefree, playful black wolf of her dreams? And how was she supposed to find him again? A chance encounter with the blue-eyed wolf had left her with far more questions than answers.

She stretched, her human toes scuffing through the hard, stony ground under the truck as she reached out for the shirt she had thrown down in her haste to reach the forest. It was already soaking wet from the rain, the fabric a much darker colour than before and practically dripping in her hands.

“Fuck,” Emma grumbled, scrambling out from under the truck and ignoring the rain as it beat down onto her naked skin. It was night again, the brightness of the moon illuminating the bare patches of freshly welded metal plates on the bodywork of her truck. Emma tugged at the handle of the door, climbing into the cab completely naked and fishing around in the footwell for the extra set of clothes every werewolf kept handy. Unfortunately for Emma, the only set of clothes she had left in her truck wasn’t a set at all but rather a red, skin tight cocktail dress that she thought she had lost. It wasn’t the sort of attire she would normally wear unless she was going out, but it was all she had.

Sometimes, as werewolves, it was so easy to lose track of time and lose chunks of memory; Emma hadn’t even realised she had been in wolf form for more than twenty hours. The clock on her dashboard told her it was ten-thirty and judging by the darkness, Emma surmised it was the next day. She shimmied on her dress, awkwardly because of the confines of the cab space in her truck, and smoothed the fabric over her stomach and thighs. She pulled down the vanity mirror, picking out the leaves and twigs from her hair before thumping the glove box until it dropped open, and grabbed her spare hairbrush. She raked it through her hair a few times, audibly yelping when it pulled a knot, until it was smooth. Sort of.

She was still somewhat angry, so she couldn’t return to Misthaven. The longer she stayed away the more she knew her parents would worry, and the last thing she needed was a search party. Wolves were very good trackers after all, with the stamina of a thousand men, and even if she wanted to, she would never stay hidden forever. Part of her anger was diverted to the mysterious stranger who had rudely just appeared into her life and complicated things tenfold. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Emma twisted her body and reached into the back seat where she had thrown her bag the night before. Her phone still had a tiny amount of battery, and a million missed calls from her father, but she didn’t want to talk to him right now. She clenched her jaw slightly, groaning in frustration as the screen lit up her face and the rest of the cab.

“Sorry, Dad,” Emma huffed to herself in the darkness. “Not ready for whatever conversation you want to have right now.”

She softened a little when she remembered her mother was also probably worried sick, and as they had constantly told her how much of a miracle she was to even be born at all, she felt the tiniest pang of guilt invade her being. Emma opened a new message, quickly typing a short message to her mother that she hoped would keep them satisfied for a while.

“I’m fine, I just need to think about things,” she read aloud to herself as her thumbs tapped at the glass screen. “I love you both. I just need time.”

When she was done, Emma tossed her phone aside where it bounced in the passenger seat, the battery flashing at only three percent. Her lips twisted into a frown when her stomach rumbled loudly and alerted her to the fact that she hadn’t eaten in over a day. She had no idea where she was other than over state lines and in the middle of nowhere, but there had to be a diner or something nearby. She slapped the sun visor back into its closed position and twisted the key in the ignition, letting the engine jump to life and shake the whole truck with its roar.

Killian couldn’t get to the bar quick enough after his shift had ended at the docks where he was a security guard. The stroke of ten had signified the end of his working day and also the start of his two week vacation, during which he had absolutely no plans. His brother Liam, with whom he shared living quarters, was out of town for the next eight days and so there was no older brother wisdom to be bestowed upon him should he live a little. And by live a little, he meant drink a little.

He was a mongrel, which meant that despite being a werewolf, he was not pure of blood. His mother had been human, and was a barmaid living in England who had fallen in love with his father when they were both young. His father, Brennan, was a pureblood werewolf who had been a sailor, visiting England from Ireland during a naval mission. Brennan had tried, but despite his best efforts, couldn’t stop himself from falling in love with the raven haired beauty at the local pub, and before long, he found himself caught up between the worlds of wolves and humans.

He had broken all of the rules. Werewolf law forbade relationships between humans and pureblood werewolves, mainly through fear of their identities being revealed to the world, but also because the idea of keeping the gene pool undiluted by humanity was evident everywhere. There was no law that said werewolves could not have a little fun with human women, and many did, but breeding was strictly forbidden, so when his mother had told Killian’s father that she was pregnant, his choices had been set out before him by the werewolf council.

Brennan was to leave the human, let her whelp the mongrel alone and try to deal with the child’s change as and when it happened. She already knew what Brennan was; he had never hidden that fact from her, but the first change of any wolf, mongrel or not, was hard. Weaker mongrels often died, and those who did not went insane from trying to fight the urge to shift, often killing themselves anyway. Only the strongest survived, but they were often flawed, social outcasts with more than a few personality quirks that humanity simply ignored or chalked up to mental illness.

His only other option was to kill her in cold blood, rip out her throat as she slept in their bed, snuffing out the light behind her eyes and the life of their unborn child. Despite the nature of his kin, Brennan could never harm the woman he loved and so he fled to America aboard the next ship without so much as a goodbye to the siren who had stolen his heart. Only, fate had other ideas, and when he had been sent back to England on another mission, not only was his love in exactly the same town he had left her in, but his son was alive.

His name was Liam. A bold Irish name for an even stronger lad who had survived the first six years of his life unscathed barring a few scrapes to his knee and scuffles with other lads at school. It made Brennan’s heart swell with pride to meet his son, even if the boy had no idea who he was, and with Liam’s mother knowing how he had only left to save her life, he was welcomed back with open arms once more by her. Only, they had to be extremely careful. If her scent so much as indicated his return, the werewolf council would know, and all three of them would be executed.

On a wet January night, almost ten months since his return, at exactly midnight, Killian was born under the glow of a half moon. The boy was the spitting image of his mother, with tiny pointed elvish ears and soft, silky hair as black as night. Brennan knew life would not be easy for him; being a mongrel was hard enough, but it would be even harder for both of his sons if he stayed. For a final time, and with a thousand apologies, Brennan bid farewell to his family for their own safety and never returned.

Ever since his first change, Killian had wondered more and more about his father. Luckily he had Liam to help him through it, his older sibling already reaching his wolf day and knowing what to expect. But it was the unexpected death of his mother from the human disease known as cancer that had taken away any chance of ever finding the answers he sought. From everything she had ever told him about his father, Killian had nothing but love for the man. He was a protector, sacrificing his own happiness for literally their lives, and the more he learned, the more he wished to meet him.

Only, his mother’s last dying wish was for Killian and Liam to find their father and tell him of her demise, finally allowing him to be the father he had always wanted to be to his sons, but all they had to go on was his name and the country he lived in. How hard could it be to find an Irishman in America?

Killian Jones had a complicated past and often found his solace at the bottom of a bottle of rum, but that was all he ever found. He had been searching for his father for many years with not so much as a sniff of a clue to his whereabouts, and without his work to distract him, he knew that the next two weeks would most likely consume him. That was, if he didn’t find something else first. If he had been a praying man, Killian would have said somebody had been listening to his thoughts and had offered up just the solution.

Her scent hit him first, an intoxicating concoction of meadow grass and leaves that invaded his senses and almost knocked the wind out of him. It was tainted with something artificially sweet, possibly a vanilla or coconut from her body wash, but it had begun to fade from her skin and was replaced with the smell of rain. He didn’t turn to her as she took up residence in the seat beside him, but the flash of red out of the corner of his eye and the inviting peek of bare thigh did nothing to stop his wandering gaze.

“Rum. Neat,” she barked at the bartender, holding herself steady and scooting forward on her bar stool. By the time she had found a comfortable position, one leg crossed over the other and her elbows resting forward on the highly polished bar, her drink had appeared in a crystal clear tumbler and was resting on a small, square napkin.

Killian traced a finger over the rim of his own identical tumbler, the last of his rum almost see-through in the bottle. He couldn’t help inhaling her smell again, his lips twitching into a sideways smirk when he found what he sought - the rustic aroma of the woods and the great outdoors combined with the tiniest traces of damp fur that told him what he had suspected since the moment she had sat down.

She was Were.

Killian lifted his glass to his lips, still not a word passing between them, and threw back his head, gulping down the last remnants of the smoky orange liquid in his glass. He caught a flicker of blonde when she shook her hair over her shoulders and then sighed, staring back into the depths of her glass.

“Something troubling you, love?” Killian pried gently. He waved a finger at the bartender for another refill of his drink and then swiveled his hips until he was facing her. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined before finally laying eyes on her, and it wasn’t just because of the barely there scrap of material she called a dress, or the way her blonde tresses bounced into curls from where she had clearly been out in the rain. “You look…”

“Look, buddy, I am not in the mood for games,” Emma huffed, watching the liquid in her glass vibrate from the tone of her voice. “I’m not a conquest and I am not someone you can practice your chat-up lines on.” It hadn’t escaped her attention that he was British, the lilt of his accent intriguing her tenfold.

Killian raised a brow and ran his palm over his mouth, stretching his fingers through the stubble on his jaw. A light chuckle escaped his mouth behind his hand, and in a bold move, he hooked his feet around the legs of his stool and shuffled it closer to her. When he leaned forward on his elbow he caught her eyes flicker to the exposed skin of his forearm and linger on his well-used hands that rested so close to the skin of her arm.

“Do you just think I am here to pick up women?” he asked her smoothly, his voice so low he knew only she would hear it.

“We all like a bit of fun from time to time,” Emma whispered back and when his eyes glinted with amusement, she knew he was Were too. “If you are looking for some human company, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Werewolves, especially male ones, often sought out company in the human world. It gave them a thrill, to have something they were not supposed to, and made them feel powerful when their increased stamina and prowess never failed to impress a mere human woman. Killian had never actually slept with a female werewolf before, instead keeping himself as distant as he could from that side of his family. His older brother Liam was more invested in pack politics, keeping track of the whose who and the comings and goings of the law, but Killian had been content to glide through life acting as human as possible.

Until now.

“Yes, well,” Killian smiled and pushed himself back. He had to. The buzz from her skin was pulling him in like nothing he had ever felt before, and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if she had accidentally moved and ignited the flame in his body with the slightest of touches. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am just searching the bottom of my glass the same way you are.”

Emma looked at him as he resumed his own sorrowful stare into his newly arrived glass of rum and felt instantly regretful. He had simply been trying to be nice, and she had shut him out with her walls the same way she did with everyone. The way she had been taught. No one could penetrate the pack if everyone kept their walls up, the hard exterior like a shell of armor that would protect every member if they played their role.

Emma was sick of playing her role, being told what to do and how to do it. For some reason, the chance encounter with another werewolf in the woods had given her pause for thought, with no influence from her family, and she was really starting to consider how different her life could have been if she were not the daughter of an alpha. She could do so many things if it were not for her pack status, and she felt like she was missing each and every opportunity to live as a human as well as a wolf.

“Hey,” she prompted, her tone much softer than before. Emma reached out and placed her fingers on Killian’s forearm, the dark hairs there soft to the touch under her fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

Killian shook his head, rolling the tumbler between his fingers. “It’s no bother.” He gulped back the whole glass of rum in one go, hissing when the burn hit the back of his throat and slowly sank lower down to his belly. “I’ll leave you to it, love. Enjoy your evening.”

Killian started to move, the slight haze surrounding his vision from so many drinks making him slower than usual to dismount the tall, wooden stool. He had been at the bar too long, consumed far too much rum and now without even trying, it seemed he had offended the most gorgeous woman in the whole place. Emma’s fingers gripped at his arm, halting his movement and he gave her a puzzled look.

“Stay.” She nodded towards his seat once more. “Let me at least buy you a drink to make up for being a bitch.”

“Alright,” Killian agreed with a grin and pushed himself back up onto the bar stool. “But I will not let you pay, so how about instead, you give me something else as a peace offering?”

Emma eyed him suspiciously. Werewolves were known to be tricky, wiley and sometimes downright con artists, but the man before her didn’t display anything but sincerity behind his playful smirk. He wasn’t like other werewolves she had met, the ocean blue of his eyes speaking volumes without him having to say a single word, and she had no idea why, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity that came from talking to him.

“I’m listening,” Emma smiled coyly.

“You tell me what you’re looking for at the bottom of your glass.” Killian smiled weakly, his words laced with something dark from his own sorrow.

A nervous chuckle escaped Emma as shelooked away from him, setting herself back on the stool and distancing herself from him. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, idly running her fingers over the outside of her glass before lifting it and gulping down the rum, screwing her face up with a grunt.

“Can’t answer that one then, love?” Killian offered her an out with a shrug. “It’s alright. We don’t always find the answers we seek on the first glass.” He waved at the barman once more, ordering two more glasses for them both.

“How about you?” Emma thanked the barman quickly with a flash of her smile and then looked back to Killian. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Killian grinned boyishly, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “I found one thing.” He reached out and plucked her hand from her glass, lifting her fingers closer to his face and inspecting the long, lithe digits. His brow pulled together, and he almost went cross eyed as he tried to focus on her fingernails.

“What are you doing?” Emma giggled, already feeling a little heady from the spirit sloshing around in her empty stomach.

“Confirming a hunch,” Killian turned her hand over so he was looking at her palm, running the fingertips of his other hand over the lines so tenderly it sent shivers up her spine.

Emma wasn’t quite sure what he was up to, and maybe it was just his drunken antics, but she watched him with a fascination so intense she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She tried to imagine him as a wolf, imagine how imposing he would be as he howled against the backdrop of a full moon, but she couldn’t seem to shake the sense that she had met him somewhere before, and she was just confusing him with someone else.

“What are you looking for?” Emma asked him with a narrowed gaze when Killian lifted her hand to his nose and inhaled hard, his eyes fluttering closed as his senses were invaded with every last smell that coated her body.

“I’ll let you know when I find it,” Killian smirked, glancing up at her for only a second before he repeated his sniffing on the inside of her wrist. The tiny flecks of red hair in his beard shimmered in the overhead bar lights and Emma sucked in a breath when he tilted his head. She noticed the faint, pink patch of skin on his cheek. It was smoother than the rest of his weathered skin, and as if the wound wasrecently inflicted, but it was unmistakably the same size and shape as she had seen last night on the stranger in the woods.

“You,” Emma breathed, shifting her hand from his grasp until it cupped his face. Her thumb brushed over the scar on his cheek and the tiny flecks of grey in his blue eyes seemed as familiar to her as home.

“Aye,” he whispered.

“You were in the forest last night,” Emma said, her words a statement of truth rather than an accusation.

“Aye,” he smiled at her, finally feeling the same as he had the first time he had realised she wasn’t going to kill him. “I thought I could find a familiar scent on your skin, but it seems modern body washes are more than adequate to disguise you. I could only tell you were kin when you sat down.”

“You interrupted my run,” Emma told him, letting her hand slip from his cheek and attach back to the outside of her glass.

Killian laughed, suddenly a little afraid he had not only done that, but had also encroached on any territory she might have been patrolling. “A thousand apologies.” He rubbed at a patch of skin behind his ear and took a sip of his rum with a wince. “And infringed on your territory no less. Or a mate’s, perhaps?”

Emma sucked a breath at his roundabout questioning. “Nice try,” she smirked and took a sip of her own drink. “You and I both know that forest is no one’s territory. We were both there alone.”

Killian nodded to himself and couldn’t stop the sly smile spreading across his lips. “No mate then?”

Emma knew he didn’t mean to bring up the current turmoil in her life, and he had no idea he even had, but it didn’t stop her smile from fading and a heavy sigh from escaping her lungs. She didn’t want to be anyone’s mate and she didn’t want to marry Graham. She wanted to be young and carefree, to be able to run in no one’s territory and find love with a dark haired, blue eyed stranger that was genuinely honest and intrigued by who she was in the moment, not by how she was the daughter of an alpha.

“I’m sorry.” Killian shook her from her reverie with a hand on her shoulder, and Emma jumped sideways a little. Killian let his hand linger on her bare shoulder until she looked up at him, and offered a friendly smile. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s complicated,” Emma said sadly.

“Is that why you run?” Killian let his hand slide down her back, the feel of his hands on her body like electricity in every cell. Even through the material of her dress Emma could feel the burning tips of his fingers and couldn’t stop the human reaction of her body to his touch.

“Is that why you run?” Emma deflected his own question back to him and Killian just gave her a knowing smile.

“It’s complicated,” he said with a wink, lightening the mood a little and ordering a few more drinks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same night as ch 3, things are starting to hot up ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 4! With fantastic @cocohook38 artwork (found on Tumblr)! There are more of these wonderful chapter art cards to come, so get ready to fall in love with EVERY character! Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who has done a fantastic job keeping my rabble in line, and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted. Without your constant encouragement I would have probably given up on this fic already. Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on.

“Litter mates?” Killian asked after some thought, holding his shot aloft. The vibrant red, cherry-flavoured liquid swirled up the side of the glass and nearly spilled out. “I have one brother.”

“None,” Emma declared triumphantly and motioned for him to drink down the shot. Killian sighed emphatically and threw his head back, not enjoying the bitter taste of the oddly sweet alcohol on his tongue.

They had decided to lighten their moods, changing their conversation to something a little easier. Somewhere between compliments, but before they had learned each other’s names, they had begun a game of shots that had become quite competitive. 

“Alright,” Killian smacked his lips together, sucking his tongue to try and rid his mouth of the foul excuse for booze. “Longest time spent as a wolf.”

Emma paused, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as she poured him a new shot. This was a tough one. As wolves, the longer they spent in that form, the harder it became to keep track of time, and it was sometimes too easy to spend days in wolf form. 

“I think it was probably like four days,” Emma said, a little unsure. “Maybe five.” She twisted her smile with thought, her brow knitting together.

“Well, which is it, love?” Killian laughed. “Four or five?” He urged drunkenly.

“Five!” Emma exclaimed quickly, slapping her hand down on the table.

“Too bad,” Killian smirked, leaning back in his seat. “I spent eight days as a wolf after the death of my mother.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Emma sobered briefly before Killian waved her worry away with a quick flick of his wrist.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head and pointed to her still full glass. “Now, drink up!” 

Emma gave him a small smile before tossing the ultra sweet drink into her mouth, swallowing it as quickly as she could. “God, this stuff is disgusting.” She winced at the taste.

“All part of the game,” Killian assured her. “Your turn,” he prompted, filling her glass once more.

“Oh I know!” Emma squealed excitedly. “Most embarrassing place you shifted.”

“Oh, good one,” Killian whispered smoothly, tapping his fingertips against the gingery flecks in his stubble. Killian chuckled to himself as he recalled several of his embarrassing changes, but one stuck in his mind. “I shifted in a supermarket once, full of people.” Emma gasped and tried to stifle her laugh. “My mother threw her coat over me to hide it, I was only a lad, and then she was escorted from the store for disobeying the no pets policy.”

“Awww,” Emma tried to sound sympathetic but her hysterics overpowered it. “Poor puppy.”

“Yes, well, it was very embarrassing. I was still learning to control it.” Killian smiled. “I’m sure yours cannot be any worse.”

Emma shook her head. “Nope, you got me. I can’t beat that,” Emma agreed, drinking her shot for the second time in a row.

“First change,” Killian murmured after a twisted expression that signified his thought erupted into delight. He leaned forward across the huge table they had migrated to and sloppily poured more of the bright red alcohol into Emma’s shot glass.

“Eleven,” Emma said slowly, the words tumbling from her mouth haphazardly as she narrowed her gaze at the man opposite her. She caressed the tiny shot glass in her fingertips, eager for his reply.

Killian gave her a wolfish grin and covered the top of his identical shot glass with the palm of his hand. “Ten. Drink up, love,” he laughed.

Emma gave him a wide-eyed stare and then lifted the shot glass to her lips, letting the acrid taste of sour liquor slide down her throat. It coated her tongue offensively and she shook her head from side to side, poking her tongue out with a sound of disgust. 

“Ten?” Emma repeated, aghast. 

Killian nodded at her and raised his eyebrow playfully. In the werewolf community it was generally considered that the earlier in their human life a male got to their wolf day, the stronger and more virile they were. It was how pack members who were not destined to be wed by the choice of their alpha picked their mates. The strong mated with the strong and the late bloomers were often left to a life of solitude. 

Emma gave him an impressed look, turning her bottom lip out as she raked her gaze over him once more. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the darkened corner of the dive bar they were sitting in, but Emma saw more than just the piercing stare he was giving her. She saw the man, tall, perfectly shaped and with the bulge of muscles in all the right places. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, the dark blue check pattern crinkled as the material folded over on itself but stretched over his bicep. It was untucked, covering the too tight dark blue jeans, and a surge of arousal flushed through Emma at the mere sight of him.

She had seen him as a wolf. He wasn’t terribly large or imposing, battle worn and inflicted with scars, but he was charming and he had spirit that echoed her own. Emma couldn’t help but smile as she recalled their encounter and how he had instantly trusted her by exposing his belly, rolling around on the forest floor and whimpering as he had licked at her maw. He might not have been the biggest, baddest wolf but he had just the perfect amount of human in him to make him desirable.

And it was at that moment, as he filled her shot glass for another round, that Emma felt the pull of desire. She wondered how far the sprouting of fine black hairs from his collar extended down his torso and if his wolf form was any indication of how hairy his human form was. She wondered what his lips felt like on hers and how it would make her spine tingle to have the scruff along his jawline scratch at the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“Your turn,” he said, watching her with a predatory gaze. “Unless, you have something else in mind?” He pried seductively, reading her like an open book.

Emma fought back the blush that threatened to expose her thoughts and shuffled around in the booth until she was almost pressed up against the side of him. The material of her barely there thigh length dress rode up even more and Emma gently parted her knees, knowing how the scent of her arousal would test his resolve. She could smell herself and had no doubt he could too. Emma shot a quick glance around them, and then, content they were not being watched, peeled his clenched hand from his grip on the bottle they had procured for their game, and slid both of them under the table.

He watched her with fascination but his expression had shifted to a puppy like stare, his eyebrow raised on his forehead and his tongue darting out to lick away the traces of rum and cherry from his lips. Emma placed his hand on her knee, the heat from his fingertips colliding with the coolness of her skin and as she pulled his hand higher up her thigh towards what she knew he was absolutely already drowning in the scent of, she could have sworn she heard him whimper.

“Gods, you smell amazing,” Killian growled in the back of his throat and extended his grip around the flesh of her thigh. He leaned forward, looming over her with his bulk and burying his face in the crook of her neck, eager to experience more of her intoxicating influence as it filled his senses.

“Easy, boy,” Emma purred, rolling her hips a little towards his fingertips that were just out of reach. When Killian brushed his thumb over her exposed folds, they both gasped in surprise and Emma’s hand shot up to clutch at his shirt, the material balling in her fist in a move that pulled his face even closer to hers.

“Where are your knickers, love?” Killian breathed against her face, his lips parted a hair's breadth from her own. He didn’t wait for her to answer before her pressed his thumb between her folds and found her sensitive nub.

“Lost them in the woods,” Emma forced from her mouth, trying desperately to keep her voice composed under his tantalising assault of her clit. Her forehead rolled against his and she heard their heart beats quicken in their chests.

“How careless,” Killian whispered, a smirk playing across his face again as Emma’s body reacted to his touch. They were drunk, so very drunk, but it wasn’t on the alcohol. Killian was about to explode, the feel of Emma’s scorching hot flesh under his touch each time he swiped his finger through her slickness sending him into a state of madness. “I want to taste you,” he growled darkly against her lips.

“You would?” Emma teased, pulling her face back a little, eager to keep the tension alive with the promise of a kiss but nothing more. The dynamic of their exchange shifted back and forth, each teasing the other as they kept their gazes locked and practically breathed the same air. 

“Don’t make me beg.” Killian looked at her longingly through his lashes, his fingers finding another particularly sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs.

“I’d rather make you pant.” Emma grinned and without giving him time to object, she tugged his hands from her sex and lifted it between them. Killian watched her, confused for a second, before she leaned forward and sucked on his fingers, her tongue massaging the digits and lapping up all of her own juices from them with a content hum.

Killian was frozen, shocked and aroused beyond anything he had ever felt before. His erection was more than evident in the confines of his jeans now, his face paling as at that exact moment his blood was diverted elsewhere in his body. He blinked once, twice, three times just to make sure the she-wolf in front of him was in fact real, smacking her lips together and giving her luscious lips a last lick to gather up any remainder of her nectar. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he struggled to swallow the dry lump that had formed there, trying to steady his gaze that had blurred even more from his inebriation.

“Are you a good boy?” Emma finally touched him, palming the side of his face with a tender touch that was like nothing he had ever experienced. “Would you like a treat?” He nodded dumbly. It was all he could manage, slack jawed and dizzy with arousal.

With a smirk of contentment Emma closed the minute gap between them and pressed her lips to his. It quickly escalated, the taste of her on his lips too much for Killian to contain any longer, and he pushed hard against her mouth, parting his lips and hungrily sucking on her bottom lip. The beast yearned to be free, to have more than the faintest taste, and his tongue slipped into her mouth where even more of her addictive flavour still lingered on her tongue.

Emma’s hands snaked around behind his neck, her fingers lacing in the hair on the nape of his neck and holding his lips to hers. The sounds of the bar faded away as they kissed and all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears in time with the throb of anticipation between her thighs. Killian’s roughened palm found her hip and roamed over the curve, eager to memorise the shape of her under his hands and never forget the feeling she had awoken inside of him.

It was lust, pure and simple. Animalistic want of the highest level expressed in a tangle of limbs as they pawed at each other, tongues fighting for dominance and low groans escaping their throats. Killian pulled her to him harder, a huge hand splayed out over the taught material that covered her lower back, and swiped his tongue over the roof of her mouth, desperately trying to reach the last traces of juices in her mouth.

When she thought she couldn’t breathe anymore, Emma pulled her mouth from his, a small feminine giggle slipping from her mouth as he chased after her lips like a hungry dog. “Someone ought to put you on a leash.” She quirked her eyebrow at him, pressing her hand to his chest and holding him at bay so she could catch her breath. His heartbeat thundered under her palm and she gave him a sly smile.

“Are you volunteering, love?” Killian panted leaning into her, reluctant to let her go.

“Do you have a car?” Emma whispered, biting her bottom lip and giving him an alluring look through her lashes.

“Of course.” Killian beamed, his hair ruffled and his cheeks flushed just above the line of his stubble. There was absolutely no way they would be driving anywhere; they were both way too drunk for that, but Killian was pretty sure driving was not on Emma’s agenda. “It’s out back,” he said darkly, unable to resist another quick grope of her beautiful body shape as he slid his hands over the side swell of her breast.

“Take me,” Emma said huskily, her words full of innuendo and double meaning. “Take me now.”

Killian wasn’t sure which hurt the most; the way his erection was painfully rubbing at the inside of his jeans, the rough seam making him even harder as it caressed his shaft, or the shooting ache through his lower back as Emma slammed him into the hood of his Mustang and then flattened herself over the top of him. His breath shot out of his lungs, escaping into the chill of the night air in a wisp of condensation as they made out in the darkened corner of the parking lot.

It didn’t matter that it was almost as black as the space around them because they could both see as clear as day. Their nighttime vision was as good as it was during daylight, but it was severely dulled by their senses being awash with each other’s scent as eager hands roamed over bodies and teeth clashed against each other with passion. Emma’s fingernails scraped over the taut fabric of his shirt, grinning against his mouth when she felt his nipples peak to attention underneath her fingertips.

“My keys…” Killian mumbled sideways out of his mouth and slid his hands to his pocket. Emma grabbed his wrist and placed his hand back on the curve of her hip with a grin.

“Here is just fine,” she panted, the smell of her soaking wet core too much for even her to handle as she tore at the leather strap securing his jeans in place. The buckle of his belt clattered under her assault and Killian shot a glance down between their bodies to watch, an excited smirk playing across his face which Emma mirrored coyly.

“You’re incredible,” Killian stammered, his body rolling around the highly polished hood of his classic as she aggressively pulled at his jeans until the button popped open and his straining erection easily opened his fly as it fought to be free.

Emma licked her lips with a groan and smoothed her hand over his length, an action that even through the material of his boxers, Killian thought might end their night as quickly as it had begun. “You talk too much,” she purred and stroked his member through his boxers. He clenched his teeth, the muscles along his jawline pulling tighter than they ever had in his entire life as he fought to compose himself. With a grunt of exertion, he pushed himself to his feet, clutching Emma to him as he spun them both around until the back of her thighs touched the cold metal of the chromed bumper.

Emma yelped at the contact, her body prickling with heat and goosebumps rippling over every inch of skin she had exposed with the contrast. She looked up at him, his once blue eyes now a shattering shade of grey, the tiniest flecks of blue only visible because of how close they were standing.

“Would you rather I show you some of this old dog’s new tricks?” He looked at her, straight faced and with the most predatory stare she had ever seen. It scared her a little and her breath caught in her throat, her grip on his shoulders tightening a little as his fingers lifted the edge of her skirt up, rolling the blood red fabric higher until she was totally exposed to him. It was Emma’s turn to be awestruck, her usually quick wit long gone, abandoned with every other bodily mechanism she might have had in her arsenal as he slipped his hand between her thighs once more and grinned from ear to ear at how wet she was.

“Oh,” Emma gasped, pulling down hard on his shoulders, her eyes fluttering closed as her cheek smoothed itself against his.

“I’m going to call you Old Mother Hubbard,” Killian growled, quickening the pace of his fingers against the hardness of her clit. “Because you’ve given this dog a bone.” Emma’s hand slapped against the back of his neck, holding his face exactly where it was so his words could dribble into her ear with all the temptation she swore had never had her as wet as she was right now. She didn’t even register what he was saying, it was how he was speaking that had her so worked up and helpless in his arms, so she didn’t even notice when he turned her around and pressed his hand between her shoulder blades so that she had no choice but to lean over the hood of his car.

“Oh, fuck me,” Emma rasped in anticipation, a shiver shaking her entire body.

“Not yet, love,” Killian smirked, sinking to his knees behind her exposed behind. “I told you I wanted to taste you.” He exaggerated his inhale, taking in a full gulp of the night air that was laced with the provocative smell of her arousal. Killian was nigh on salivating with her glistening folds so close to his face, the rewards of his ministrations within reaping distance of his tongue and his body reacting to it like it was Pavlov’s bell. 

Not wanting to waste a single second more, he closed the gap and felt Emma quake in his grasp as he lapped at her opening. Werewolves naturally ran hot but Killian thought Emma’s sex was going to burn him alive, the honey-like sap that was virtually pouring from her, doing nothing to cool his tongue in the fire of her loins. She was like his favourite rum, sweet, exotic and with a hint of spice that set his heart racing in his chest and made his blood boil.

Emma had nothing to grab onto, nothing to ground her to reality as he sucked on her most intimate area with a hunger she hadn’t realised he possessed. On the outside, he was mild and displayed none of the wolfish dominance every other man in her life exerted, but when she had flirted with the idea of tempting him she had no idea she would release his inner beast. Or that, other than his cocky quips, he would be so talented with his mouth.

“Fuck,” Emma whispered again, her nipples straining against the hood. Her dress was minimal, barely even there, and offered to hide nothing her body was displaying in response to Killian’s tongue between her legs. “You...fuck...I can’t…”

“Let go,” Killian whispered darkly, his hands smoothing up the outside of her thighs as he held her still. “I’ll hold onto you,” he panted, tongue already out to continue its flicking against her clit that had coated his scruffy short beard in her arousal.

Emma’s legs began to shake, fine beads of sweat sprouting from the hairline on her brow. She had no control, no ability to do anything but pray that he would keep his promise as she came, her orgasm ripping through her so violently that she felt like she was falling and would never stop. She had gone blind, flecks of white light flashing behind her eyelids all she could see and the more he licked at her, the harder it was to breathe. And then, just when she thought she couldn’t take any more he stopped, a rush of cold air hitting her sex when he pulled his face away and rose to his feet behind her.

“You alright, love?” he soothed, leaning over her back carefully as not to crush her with his weight, his hands skimming over any bare patch of skin he could find. Emma felt the tickle of hairs against the back of her thighs and smiled to herself, still unable to open her eyelids, when she felt the firmness of his bare erection pressing against the crease of her behind.

“I think so,” Emma sighed, the side of her face pressed to the now warmed surface of his Mustang hood. The metallic blue paint had warmed under her skin and it was comforting in the chill of the night.

Killian bit his tongue between his teeth and kicked Emma’s feet apart, stepping into the space behind her. He took himself in hand, rubbing his weeping tip over her folds, grinning through gritted teeth when Emma whined beneath him and pushed back a little until his tip was enveloped in her core. “Good,” he said huskily, his voice changed with his lust. “Now let me show you how a real wolf fucks.”

Emma hadn’t even come down from her first orgasm when he was pushing into her, the slow drag of his length along her inner walls as he filled her up making her eyes roll back in her head and her entire body stiffen. The ebb of her first release still lingered on her skin, heightening her responsiveness to new stimuli and sending her body into an instant state of sexual euphoria. Her body felt limp like it wasn’t hers and she collapsed forward onto the hood with a clunk, bumping her forehead.

“Oh shit,” She groaned, palming her forehead to make sure there was no skin broken. Her discomfort was short lived because when Killian angled his hips, buried himself inside of her to the hilt and rolled his hips just so, he hit the spot inside of her that made her toes curl and set every hair on her body standing on end, her expletives were for a whole new reason. “Oh shit,” she breathed, reaching behind her to clutch at the hairy thigh pressed against her buttocks.

“You’ve got another one in you, don’t you, lass?” Killian said with a gravelling tone, his voice as shaky as his legs as he fought his own impending release. Emma’s nails dug into his thigh and he was sure they would leave at least tiny round bruises in the morning. He hooked one of his hands behind her knee, ignoring her squeak of protest as he lifted her leg and planted her foot firmly on his bumper, opening her up to him even more. It also gave him the perfect access to her clit once more, and as he continued his thrusts, in and out, deeper and deeper each time, he gently rolled her nub under his thumb.

Emma had nothing to clutch, nothing to help relieve the absolutely painful pleasure coursing through her, so she fisted her hand in her own hair and tugged hard, only to then release it and bite down on her balled fist. Who was this wolf? Emma had never known anyone like him. He was so attentive to her needs, making sure that she found her pleasure before his own, and not just once, but twice. It was so unlike werewolves to show this much care and if she hadn’t have smelled his Were scent, she would have sworn blind he was human.

“There!” Emma cried when her inner walls began to flutter around him and she felt the rush of blood to her sex. “Oh, fuck, right there…”

Killian increased his pace, satisfied that he had found the bundle of nerves that would send her crashing into her second orgasm. He clawed at her hips, pulling her to him on every thrust, impaling her over and over until she had no breath left to scream with and he felt the tell tale signs of her climax gripping at his length. Emma came, harder than her first, her entire body trembling on the hood of his Mustang, and rendering her entire body useless. Killian held onto her, making sure she didn’t slip from the car, as his legs wobbled and he emptied himself into the depth of her cavernous warmth with a few stuttered jerks of his hips.

Killian collapsed, his knees finally giving out and he pulled Emma with him as he fell to the concrete floor of the parking lot. She slipped from the hood with zero protests, landing on his lap with a thud and a soft groan. He was still rock hard inside of her despite his release, her inner walls still throbbing around his sensitive tip, pulling him deeper inside of her and holding him in place.

He never wanted to stop feeling lost inside of her, never wanted to lose the connection he had with her, and maybe it was the thrill of the chase but he had caught his quarry and wasn’t about to let her go without a fight. The silence that fell over them was not uncomfortable, it just was. They were both dizzy, drunk on alcohol and each other, and remiss to stop touching her, Killian smoothed the fabric of her dress back down over her buttocks to give her some sort of dignity back.

“Wow,” he panted, swiping a hand over his brow and brushing a few tendrils of his fallen hair from his face. “I didn’t get your name,” he grinned smugly, the side of his mouth turning up to expose his teeth. “I’m Killian.”

“It’s Emma,” she breathed, gasping to cure the burn in her lungs. “And that’s what I had in mind,” she cooed with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, not sorry, for the dog-related puns. teehee.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma wasn’t sure exactly when she had started dreaming. She distinctly remembered not having one since she had encountered her first change, her sleep pattern forever changing and the depth at which she now slept so shallow, she never entered the dream state. But now it was different. She had been plagued with a reoccuring vision each night she closed her eyes, of herself and a strange, black wolf with eyes as blue as topaz and a deep as the ocean.

Just like any dream, it had no beginning and no end; the only part she remembered was being somewhere in between. She had no idea what it meant, or what it was trying to tell her, but now she was sure that in Killian, she had found the wolf of her musings and would find out sooner rather than later.

It was always night time, she remembered that much, with a full moon shining so brightly through the trees that the entire forest is cast in a dulcet white light. Emma was always dressed in a gown, a soft flesh tone to the fabric and a coarse white cloak that reached all the way to the floor. It would drag through the forest floor, snagging on twigs and stumps as she walked, her hands at her sides and her skin alight with the feeling of being watched.

He would never leave her in the dreams. He may not have been invisible, a silent entity in the mass of trees, but he was always there. 

_The soft swirl of his fur in the breeze makes no sound to anyone but Emma, her super sensitive hearing picking up the tiny traces of hairs rubbing together along his pelt, and his otherwise silent padding through the leaf littered floor is like music to her ears. She smiles, looking down at her feet as she walks, pretending to not notice her admirer, but still knowing exactly where he is at all times._

_“I know you’re there,” Emma whispers through her smile, her eyes flicking to the ground beside her feet. Every night he appears there, at her side like a loyal hound, springing from his hiding place and making himself known with a soft, wolf whine. “Come on out,” Emma coaxes gently, tapping her thigh._

_The huge black shadow of him is seen first, his bulk cast across the ground by the moonlight as they enter a clearing. It is like a meadow, the trees thinning out around them and even through her sleep, Emma can feel the softness of the grass under her feet. He stalks forward, head low and almost uncertain as he approaches her like a dog caught doing something he shouldn’t, and his tail brushes against the grass as he licks his maw nervously._

_“There you are,” Emma smiles, sinking down onto one knee and extending her arm out to him. The blue of his eyes is piercing, cutting deep into her soul, and in that moment, when they are surrounded by nothing but the woodland, she feels at home. She feels like this is the wolf who has been sent to guide her, to show her the path she is destined to live, not the one she is expected to. “Who are you?” She asks softly, her fingertips inches from the leather of his nose._

_The wolf sits, the gentle sound of the wind through his fur getting louder as a breeze whips at his pelt. The trees rustle overhead and there is the faintest scent of fresh flowers that has yet to burst through the soil, the lingering dew on the grass indicating a fresh rainfall that she has not witnessed in her dreams so far. The wolf lets out a whine, a sound too high-pitched for his size and laced with sorrow, his ears sliding down the side of his head a little and the light behind his kind, almond shaped eyes going dark._

_“What’s wrong?” Emma asks softly. She steps closer, the wolf leaning around her frame that blocks his vision, and when she places her hands tentatively on his head, her fingers disappearing into the softness of his fur, she feels him sigh. Her touch doesn’t move him, only causes him to whine louder, his ears pricking up a little as if he wants her to see something, his front paws padding the ground in agitation. With a frown, Emma follows his gaze, turning on the spot so that she is standing beside him, her hand sliding down the shape of his skull as if to comfort him._

_What she sees stops her heart. A chill runs through her blood and for a second, Emma wishes she could breathe, the sight before her stealing the breath from her lungs as if by magic. Her fingers curl into the wolf’s fur, the slightly longer hairs on the scruff of his neck coarser to her touch, but it’s all she has to anchor herself to something that makes her feel safe. It’s a tombstone, the edges chipped and weathered by the elements, and lichen has taken up residence around the name etched into the stone, but she can still see it as clear as day, even in the darkness._

_Nolan. The name is Nolan._

_Through her shock, Emma has not even registered the loss of the warmth around her fingertips, the rough hairs of the wolf turning into the warm flesh of skin as a hand grips hers, lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. She looks up from their hands, half expecting to see her father comforting her because his name is on the gravestone before her, but instead she sees the one person she feels like she knows more intimately than she knows herself. For the first time since they began, her dream has shifted and a new element has appeared._

_Killian._

_Emma is confused, her brow knitting together in confusion as a single tear rolls down his face, the salty droplet glinting in the light of the moon against the shadow of his perfect profile. He turns, sadness etched across his features, and his shoulders sag with defeat._

_“He’s gone,” he whimpers, his voice cracking with emotion. “It’s over,” he adds, his voice fading away as a deafening boom tears through the forest, shaking the trees, the moon becoming so bright it blinds her._

“Emma?” A small voice entered her ears, distant at first, but with unmistakable concern. “Emma, are you alright?”

A hand on her hip soothed her, and when Emma finally peeled her eyes open, blinking to clear her vision, she saw Killian leaning over her with a worried expression. His slightly too long hair was messy, flopping to one side over his brow, the whites of his eyes visible in the darkness. Emma grumbled a sound deep in her throat, half confused as her eyes flickered over his features, and half asleep as she rested her palm against his cheek.

Killian was propped up on his elbow, his body pressed against hers, the hard planes of his chest and the jut of his hip digging into her. “I’m okay,” she said groggily, and he instantly relaxed under her touch. “Just a bad dream.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” He offered, falling flat against the mattress beside her. 

“I just met you,” Emma scolded him with a laugh, her lips twitching into a smile that she could not hide and that he mirrored just as coyly.

“Indeed,” he smirked. “Although, talking wasn’t on the top of our agenda a few hours ago.” His eyebrow quirked upwards and Emma could see it, unable to hide her blush under his gaze.

“Yes, well,” she coughed, nuzzling into his side a little. His body was warmer than anyone she had ever met before, and the steady beat of his heart thumped against the shell of her ear when she rested her head on his chest. “We were drunk a few hours ago.”

“Are you saying we might have sobered up in three hours, love?” Killian pulled her closer, his bicep flexing against the curve of her shoulder as he held her. It was comforting, a far cry from any other wolf Emma had ever slept with, and she again had to remind herself that if she didn’t know any better, she would have said he was human.

“It’s possible,” Emma shrugged, her fingers lacing into the dark hair on his chest. “I don’t know about you, but my metabolism is very fast and my hunger never sated.” Emma knew her words meant more, and the way she lifted her knee and hooked it over his thigh told him exactly what she meant. 

Killian had no idea why he was so attracted to Emma. The term animal magnetism seemed too cliche to describe what they were doing right now, or had done in the last few hours, but whatever it was felt as real as the woman he was holding right now. It was hard and fast, taking him by surprise, but not in the worst kind of way, because Emma made him feel alive, like he had never felt before. She had awakened something inside of him that had been suppressed by years of human influence and he loved it.

“Are you hungry now?” Killian asked darkly, his voice changing in an instant to the gravelly, deep throated rasp that made her skin tingle. Emma felt his hands on her body, burning into her flesh through the navy blue sheet that mostly covered her, every hair on her body springing to attention at his slightest touch.

“Maybe,” Emma purred, watching him change position and his hand ghost down her torso. She shifted her weight a little, arching into his touch and she felt her breath leave her when his hand found her hip. Killian gave it a squeeze, the muscles along his jaw tense and visible even through the lightly gingered scruff of his beard, and the sound he made in his throat sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. “Are you?” She cooed, sliding her legs against the coarse hair on his thigh.

There was a growl and Emma thought it sounded more canine than human, the darkness in Killian’s eyes overshadowing the blue and the sound of his thudding heartbeat filling her ears. In a flash Emma was on her back, his weight towering over her as she gasped, his lips millimeters from hers and their faces so close that his hair tickled her brow. Killian slid his hands up the side of her body, featherlight, barely there touches that made her shake with anticipation and whine with need. 

“You have no idea,” Killian rasped darkly, his voice echoing with the arousal that was becoming increasingly evident between them. Killian nudged his knees into Emma’s inner thigh, gently coaxing her legs apart and when she did, the scent of her invaded his nostrils and his eyes rolled closed, his features as close to a tortured soul as Emma had ever seen.

It was like he couldn’t control how he was feeling, the animal inside of him taking over, fuelling his lust and desire. Emma was something new, something amazing, and she made his blood howl inside of him, blurring the line between human and werewolf. Killian felt lost to humanity, pulled by his wolf side towards her, his senses coming alive and even before he had moved, he could taste her on his tongue from smell alone.

But there was something else, something underlying within her and masked by the heady mixture of sweat and sex from their earlier activities. Killian knew she was swollen, he could smell the blood rushing to her core more prominently than before, but there was an after taste of something that was familiar and yet foreign at the same time, something he had only ever smelt on a human woman and something that, combined with Emma’s werewolf pheromones, sent the blood rushing to his erection immediately.

“You, love, have your human period coming soon,” Killian whispered, his voice almost a quiver as he tried to maintain a sense of decorum. He nuzzled his face into her neck, her pulse hammering against his cheek as his hands finally touched her skin, his fingertips brushing down the column of her neck tenderly. “I can smell it,” he growled against her skin, Emma’s hand wrapping around his head and holding his face to her jaw where he had begun nipping at the skin there.

“You can?” Emma said, the words broken apart by a gasp when Killian’s hips rolled into hers and his tongue darted out to taste her neck. He nodded, a hum deep in his throat of confirmation making her smirk. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Killian whined a little too desperately, his attention moving to the other side of her jaw, tiny kisses trailing their way to her ear.

“I didn’t know,” Emma whispered, her fingers clutching at his hair when his tongue darted out to lick at her ear lobe. Killian sucked it into his mouth, the flesh rolling between his lips and leaving his mouth with a pop. “Is it a problem?” Emma teased, arching her back off of the bed and her chest into his playfully.

Killian gasped, his sensitive tip brushing the apex of her thighs and feeling the warmth of her wetness. “On the contrary,” Killian lifted his head from her neck and Emma let out a disgruntled whine. He slipped down the bed, pulling the sheet with him and revealing Emma’s bare, creamy white skin inch by glorious inch to his view. He sucked in a breath, the sound hissing through his teeth as he gulped hard and watched her eye level nipples harden in the chill of the room. “It’s got this old dog all worked up.”

“Down boy,” Emma smirked, looking down to meet his gaze over the swell of her bosom. He grinned, a wide wolfish grin that turned into a groan when he squeezed one breast in his palm and Emma stiffened under his assault. 

“Oh, I intend to,” Killian rasped, kissing his way down the center of her torso, his lips setting her skin into an electrified frenzy each time they touched her. Emma moved a little, writhing to relieve the ache inside of her that was growing with every kiss. “Way...down...here…” Killian whispered seductively between chaste pecks to her skin that followed a drag of his fingertip, his vision blurring a little with the invasion of her scent as he neared his goal.

The buzz in Killian’s ears was too much. It was like he was hearing the call of a siren, coaxing him to his death with a melody so sweet he was powerless to resist. His hands skimmed over Emma’s hips, the ridges of a few scars lost under his fingernails as he simply breathed her in and fought the urge to devour her. He wanted to savour her, taste her whilst they were sober and commit her flavour to memory lest she disappear and he never have her again. He grabbed a pillow and Emma looked at him confused for a second before her encouraged her to lift her hips and tucked it under the base of her spine. 

“Just so I can savour every last drop,” he told her darkly, settling in between her thighs once more. Emma let out a small laugh as she watched him bend her knees into position, the excitement evident on his face when she whimpered at her new position and her eyes rolled closed. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” Killian teased, kissing the inside of her ankle and feeling her toes curl into the mattress beside him.

“I know,” Emma breathed, palming her own breast to try and relieve some of the tightness in her skin. “You fucking bastard,” she purred, the words more of a plea as they left her mouth.

“I can be,” Killian smirked against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste the softness of her calf. “If you want me to be,” he teased, a single digit gliding over her exposed sex before, fighting with his own restraint, he pulled it away and to his lips and finally tasted her arousal.

“You couldn’t wait,” Emma gasped, pinching her own nipple when she felt him touch her, her hips bucking up off the pillow towards his face. “You need me,” she sang sweetly. “You need to...you…” Emma lost her words, her body crying out incoherently when Killian closed the gap between his lips and her clit and sucked long and hard. “Oh, shit,” Emma panted in a quivering voice, her hand flying down between her legs and tangling her fingers into his already sex messed hair.

Killian was in heaven, if werewolves even had the chance to get there, and he felt all of his breath leave him after Emma’s reaction to the first swipe of his tongue. Her grip on his hair tightened after the second and he crashed through the barrier of his threshold, arms wrapping around her thighs and pulling her to him hungrily, his tongue diving into her core and curling against the ribbed muscles there, the contractions around his tongue sending a jolt of lightning like thrill straight to his groin. 

Emma was divine, her inner muscles still plump and alert from their earlier activities, the skin raw and ultra sensitive on his tongue. Killian could still taste her earlier orgasms mixed with his, the salty tang and slightly metallic taste coating his tongue and overpowering the remnant of fruit flavour from their shots. A new sweetness took over him, this one invited, and when Emma breathed his name in a whine, he had to grind himself against the mattress for relief.

Killian growled, moving his attention back to Emma’s swollen nub, the hot, pink flesh thundering with blood that echoed in his hyper sensitive hearing. Emma gasped again, her head thrashing from side to side and Killian felt her thighs close around his head, the muscles quaking against his cheeks.

“There…” Emma sucked in a breath suddenly, her words almost lost in the action. “F...fuck, oh my god right there,” she stammered incoherently, shaking beneath him as Killian doubled his efforts against her clit, tongue flicking furiously.

“You taste amazing,” Killian panted, licking the arousal from her entrance and swallowing her down his throat eagerly.

“Say my name,” Emma croaked, eyes pinched closed.

“Emma,” Killian rasped. “Fuck, it’s Emma,” he shuddered, her dominance even in her most exposed state turning him on even more, his erection painfully trapped under him and oozing onto the sheet. 

“I’m so close,” Emma whimpered, her breathing becoming heavier as she began to sweat, her hairline itching with beads of moisture and her entire body afire with desire. “Use your fingers too,” she commanded, tugging in his hair a little harder. “Fuck me with your fingers, Killian.”

His name on her lips was enough to make him howl out, the sound that left his mouth a mixture of frustration and pure ecstasy as he hurried to obey her. He sucked on two of his fingers impatiently, quickly sliding them into the sheath of her warmth and revelling in how it made her arch her back and tug at her own nipples even harder. Killian’s eyes flicked up to watch her as she assaulted her own body, her hands sliding from one breast to the other and then up the column of her throat, her nimble fingers clutching at her neck with a gasp.

“Harder,” Emma commanded breathlessly, her fingernails clawing her neck. “Fuck me harder.”

Killian had no control left and if he didn’t bury himself in her immediately, he feared he might spill himself onto the sheet underneath his prone body. He surged upward without a second to spare and impaled her with his length, the thickness of him making her cry out and clutch at his shoulders so hard that he was sure she had pierced his skin with her nails. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively and his hands found her ass, sliding over the curves and up under her back before he lifted her up, sitting back on his heels and burying himself fully inside of her.

“You feel so good,” Killian bit out, desperately trying to fight the urge to come inside of her. Emma yelped and bobbed on his length, a dirty grin spreading over her lips that were mere millimeters from his. 

“You’re so fucking hard,” Emma cried, her voice full of anguish as her climax ebbed at the edges of her consciousness. She was so close it hurt, the itch in her skin almost sated but not quite, the throbbing on her clit so painful she thought it might never subside.

“You like that?” Killian growled, hands sliding down her back until he found her ass again, fingers digging into the fleshy globes and pulling her onto his length. She cried out each time, the blood pounding in her clit as it crashed into his pubic bone, the rough hair there teasing her nerves beyond comprehension. “Are you going to come for me, Emma? Come all over my hard cock?” 

All Emma could do was bite her lip and nod, her arms reaching around his neck and desperately trying to hold onto him as her tether to reality, the white specks behind her eyes growing larger each time he slammed into her and his breathy pants filled her ears. It was torture, emotion running through her and threatening to overthrow her control. Emma had never felt so close to the edge for so long and had never felt so connected to someone so deeply before. Werewolves naturally fought connections with most people, especially strangers, but Emma couldn’t fight the pull of Killian’s charm.

There was something about him. They were connected physically and spiritually, not just in actuality but also in the word of dreams. It had to mean something, she wouldn’t accept that it didn’t, and as if by something fated, she felt that he knew it too. Their breaths were as one, their bodies connected in the most intimate of ways and he was buried inside her so deep that neither of them were sure where one ended and the other began. 

Emma lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze, her hands carding through his hair and along the elfen shape of his ear. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes flicking between his darkened stare and his lips, swollen and inviting. Killian’s hands were planted firmly on her shoulder blades, the expanse of his fingers holding her steady as he felt her begin to lose control on his lap, her movements more erratic and her quickened heartbeat ringing in his ears.

“Emma…” Killian whimpered, his face pressed against her.

“I’m there,” Emma squeaked, clutching his face harder as her orgasm finally peaked. “Kiss me, Killian,” she begged, pulling his face to hers and letting him eat up her moans. 

“I’ll never stop,” Killian promised between awkward kisses, his own release slamming into him at the same time, their bodies vibrating as one in the early morning darkness. Killian felt his release burst inside of her, Emma’s muscles gripping his length and milking him for every last drop until he was spent and she relaxed in his arms once more.

There was a pause that they didn't even need but both wanted, Killian’s arms wrapping her up in a tight grip and this kiss turning softer, more languid, their tongues massaging each other as they basked in the afterglow of their euphoria. Emma could taste herself on Killian’s tongue, her arousal invading all of her senses at the same time and she pressed herself against his body even harder, flattening her chest against his in an attempt to get even closer to his warmth.

Killian broke the kiss first and Emma chased after his lips with a breathless smirk, her eyes still closed but her thumb tracing the outline of his lips in the darkness. Killian smiled at her touch and dipped his head to kiss her shoulder tenderly, inhaling the scent of her and flooding his nostrils with it, the bone deep smell of her release still thrumming over her skin. “Do you promise?” Emma’s words tugged him from his olfactory reverie.

“Hmm?” He hummed softly, lifting his head again and meeting her now open eyes. Emma’s hand found his face again and she brushed her thumb over the apple of his cheek, the soft pad skimming over his scar.

“That you’ll never stop kissing me,” she smiled at him, green eyes flitting over his sex flustered features. 

“That and so much more,” Killian tightened his grip around her body, ignoring the way her elbows dug into his chest as he crushed his lips to hers once more. 

He meant it too, the attraction he felt for Emma not just physical. He felt like he was finally awake. He had been living his life in a daze, the edges of his werewolf nature never fully evolved until now. Previously he had to hide his true being, the women he was with merely human, and despite the love his mortal mother showed both him and his brother, Killian was never convinced that anyone else would show him the same consideration. With Emma he never had to worry about pretending, trying to be someone he wasn’t, controlling himself.

She knew what it was to be Were, and she felt all the same things he did.

“Killian, I have something to tell you,” Emma began, but he silenced her with a hush. 

“Not now, love,” he smiled warmly. “It’s almost dawn and if you’ll let me, I have something amazing to show you.” 

Intrigued, Emma grinned.

“What is it?” She squeaked excitedly, her earlier worries fading away. She was going to tell him about her arranged marriage, about her pack and her father, but for now it could wait. If this was the only time Emma would have to forget about her life at Misthaven, she would take it and use the time wisely. Killian’s boyish grin made her tingle, and her excitement peaked.

“Come on,” he coaxed with a sideways nod of his head. “We are going out.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian shows Emma something spectacular and she realizes she might just be in love with the wolf of her dreams. Meanwhile, James shares his plan with Walsh.

Emma used to think that there was no life to be had outside of Misthaven. She had been raised by loving parents, in a community of other wolves who accepted her, walls and all, and figured that there wasn’t much to be missed about the outside world. She wasn’t entirely closed off; she had traveled some, but usually, it was with Graham or another escort to make sure that she was kept safe. Safety was something the Misthaven pack coveted, but that was no fun.

There was no excitement in safe. Safe kept the pack together and it kept them strong, but it didn’t show her the world. It kept her almost isolated in a sense, her every move carefully planned out to the second, and Emma had not minded one bit until she had started having the dreams. It was not unusual for werewolves to have prophetic dreams and foretell a little of their own fate within the realms of sleep, but Emma knew there was more to what hers had been telling her.

That had become evident the moment her dream has shifted and human Killian had appeared for the first time. Emma had always felt a connection with the black wolf but never knew him as anything but a messenger. She thought he had been sent to her when she slept, to show her the tombstone, the ill-fated name etched on it that of her family. Except, it was one stone, steadfast and crumbling in the forest, so what did it mean? Was it one Nolan? Was it all of them? 

The black wolf had simply whined each time she looked upon the grave, his sadness echoing through the trees, until he had transformed into the handsome man she had fallen into bed with and never wanted to leave. Finally, the black wolf had a face, and it was calm and honest, and Emma felt no ills from his demeanor. 

It was Killian.

Killian was not safe, not by Misthaven’s standards and most certainly not by her father’s reckoning. Killian was a lone wolf, running without a pack and living amongst humans, idling through life in a dead-end human job and keeping well under the werewolf radar. Battle wounds scarred his body, so Emma knew he had encountered his fair share of wolves in his time, but he wasn’t much older than she was, and so she wondered how he had survived for so long alone.

The Chronicle had a very clear policy when it came to lone, exiled wolves and even worse, mongrels. If they caused trouble, for a pack or for werewolf kind, they were to be eradicated from existence, lest humankind learn of the canine race they shared their lives with every day. Most were left alone, but the patterns on Killian’s body told a story of conflict that made Emma wonder who he had crossed paths with, and how he was still breathing. She could only say for certain that he had never upset her father, or anyone in his pack, because he would have been dead a long time ago.

She had been told stories growing up of wolves who had strayed too far from their territories and of those who had met their untimely demise at the receiving end of a bullet. Werewolves were not like the tales conjured up by wordsmiths of old, the fabled silver bullet and sword often the bringer of darkness to many a Were. They were just like humans, not immune to the searing pain caused by a bullet or the effects of secondary infection from such a wound. Many a wolf, Graham’s parents included, had met their end after the crack of a gun and as Emma pounded the ground with all four feet after the shadow black wolf in front of her, she felt a little apprehensive.

Killian was not safe. He was running along a human-made path in the early hours of the day, secluded but reeking of mortals, the wind whipping through his pelt and carrying his alluring wolf musk behind him. Emma followed him at full speed, her tail held high with anticipation of their goal, tongue lolling to one side and lapping up the scent of him with a wolfish grin. He cast a glance over his shoulder, ears pricked and blue eyes like a beacon in the dusky mid-morning light, guiding her onwards.

No, Killian was not safe. He lived on the fringe, taking risks for the greater good of excitement and Emma loved it.

They reached a clearing, the path suddenly falling away from them over a steep cliff and Emma skidded to a halt, her claws digging into the dirt and her entire body slamming into Killian’s with a grunt. He had braced himself for impact, feet planted firmly in the soft earth, and leaned into her as she hit him and expelled all of the air from his lungs. Emma stepped back and shook herself, every single hair on her body standing on end from the exhilaration of running, her lungs burning with the need for oxygen as she panted and her breath fogged the air in front of her maw on every exhale.

Killian let out a yap of juvenile excitement, his tongue darting out to lick at her open mouth submissively, ears flattened and tail wagging furiously. Emma loved that Killian was so soft in wolf form, a playful puppy on so many levels when he was around her that it made her heart sing with joy. Her life had been about dominance, over others and as the daughter of an Alpha. She was to be respected, but Emma couldn’t help but feel like the submission she got from wolves at Misthaven was forced by fear of her father.

Killian didn’t know her father, and he didn’t know who she was, so his submission was as genuine and sincere as the smile on his face. It wasn’t just submission for Emma, because as a man he was far from meek and shy, but it was respect. As a wolf, Killian offered Emma the same respect he did as a man, the only change being in body language and gestures, but the meaning exactly the same. It would be hard for a non-were to understand, but it made her feel valued as not just a wolf, but also as a woman.

When his excitement had subsided, Killian gave one last glance at the dry, dirt road behind them, his head held high and his nose twitching in the wind. There was the faintest traces of human in the breeze, Emma could smell it too, but it was days old and had long since been washed from the leafy ferns that littered the path. Once he was content, Killian spun back to face her, his eyes aglow in the darkness, and wagged his tail before nuzzling his cold, wet nose into her fur.

If they were in human form, it would have been an embrace, and it seemed that even in wolf form he was unable to refrain from touching her. Emma welcomed his affection, her eyes closing slightly and her neck leaning into his nudge, her own tail beginning a slow, languid rhythm from side to side. They were up somewhere high and the gently warmed morning breeze twisted around them where they stood, pelts swaying like meadow grass, but neither of them taking any notice.

Killian let out a canine sigh and brushed past Emma, his entire body smoothing along the length of hers, his tail held much higher over his back. It signaled his ultimate joy, and as Emma watched him circle her, moving to the corroded edge of the cliff, she felt her own tail mirror his, the tip brushing over her back as she followed him. Killian sat and Emma joined him, both of them sitting so close their shoulders were touching and their tails brushing through the dust into each other.

The city below was only half illuminated, mostly being residential and it being so early in the morning. The wee hours were not for everyone, especially humans, and as exhausted as she was from the last few days, Emma already knew she would follow Killian anywhere and at any time. Their breathing evened out as they sat, waiting for the dark red on the horizon beyond the city to grow and bring the light of day. Emma had never seen a sunrise before, and especially not in wolf form, and she was positively shaking with excitement for what was to come.

And then it happened. In a matter of seconds, the red turned to orange and the circle of shimmering flares surrounding the rising sun began to grow, the warmth increasing with each inch that was revealed to them. The first thing to hit her was the heat, the chill of the night air chased away by the sun's rays as it lit up every tan or cream hair on her snout. Emma pinched her eyes closed a little, the intensity too much for her dilated nighttime pupils, and she held her breath at the majesty of the scene in front of her.

When she peeled her eyes open again, she noticed Killian out of the corner of her eye. He had swiveled his head and was looking at her, watching her profile with awe as she was basked in the burnt orange glow of the sun, the light traveling down from the tips of her ears to the toes on her paws. He couldn’t stop himself as he nuzzled the leather of his nose into her ear, the softest hair on her entire canine body tickling his nostrils as he celebrated her scent invading his senses. She was glorious and sunkissed and it made her purer than he could have ever have imagined.

Emma turned to face him and leaned forward, their noses bumping briefly before she rubbed her muzzle along his in a silent thank you, her tongue darting out to lick at the scar on his face tenderly, and her entire body relaxing beside him. Killian’s tail began a gentle wag in understanding of her gratitude and, still nuzzling into each others fur, they sank down to their elbows and curled into two balls of sleepy fluff whilst the sun continued to climb in the sky.

\--

After the long drive back to their home, James was absolutely sick of Walsh’s questions. The mutt hadn’t shut up about his niece, seemingly obsessed with Emma and the power she exuded, barraging his Alpha with question after question, which made James’ jaw twitch with anger, his patience thinning.

After his exile, James had fled Misthaven with his tail between his legs and nothing more than the shirt on his back. Walsh had come into his life during a bar fight, the human gang of twelve men no match for the two werewolves, and they had left the bar that night covered in the blood of men who had never seen their defeat coming. It was an unfair fight, they had both known that going in, and Walsh’s loyalty and dedication since had seen him prompted to pack beta in no time.

James didn’t trust anyone else but Walsh, and even then sometimes his beta would make him question that. They had set up Neverland, a huge manor house that echoed Misthaven in size but was more like a training academy for lost and wayward werewolves. Whenever a wolf was exiled from their pack, escaping the death penalty set out before them, James offered them sanctuary and taught them how to be better fighters.

Neverland was, in essence, a place where the exiled became accepted. James had acquired the house and its grounds from its old owner in a game of poker. Peter, a skinny rich human kid who had recently inherited the estate after his last living relative had died, made for easy manipulation. It had taken James just two hands to work out Peter was a two time poker tournament winner, a card shark obsessed with winning, and all James had to do was stroke his ego a little before sleeving a few aces and leaving Peter with no other option but to gamble away his remaining assets.

The deeds to Neverland were the easiest acquisition of his dishonest life, and James often laughed at how Peter might as well have just given them to him. The kid, fuelled by foolhardy arrogance, had gambled the deeds away on a 7-2, statistically the worst hand in poker, and James had taken more glee in winning with a measly pair of eights than he should have. Walsh was at his side that night, the first time he had really had James’ back so loyally, prying the tea coloured papers from Peter’s hands as the boy had looked on amazed at his own loss.

Once they had set foot beyond the huge iron gates on Neverland, James had felt the power he had always craved surging through him. The building itself was nothing to be scoffed at, huge white columns holding aloft a balcony that James imagined himself addressing his pack from, two huge weathered lion statues sitting at each end more imposing than the building itself. One had half its face eroded away whilst the other was seemingly untouched by the elements, its beauty and power the manifestation of James’ conflict with his brother. 

At Neverland, David was the corruption, the corroded lion that crumbled under James’ fingertips each time he walked along the balcony, a smile of gratification spreading across his lips. He had thought, for many years, that it would be the only way he would ever defeat David, gently picking away the stone lion year after year. But now, the opportunity to make his every waking dream a reality had presented itself and as James sat beside the statue, the dark specks of erosion permeating right into the stone, he grinned to himself as he picked away another embedded pebble and disfigured the lion a little more.

“I see you are attacking David again,” Walsh nodded at him, motioning to the statue beside James with the beer in his hand. The afternoon had seen them lounging on the balcony, stopping for dinner only for twenty minutes before James had insisted they finish their plans for the attack of Misthaven.

“Still,” James corrected with a twisted grin. “And soon, I won’t have to chip away at this damn lion anymore.” With one last scrape of his fingernail against the stone lion, the last remaining prong of one of its canines fell away, hitting the balcony floor silently. “David will be permanently disfigured in reality, and I will be the sole heir of Misthaven once more.”

“I thought you hated Misthaven,” Walsh frowned, slouching a little more down in his seat. The wooden frame creaked under his weight and the stretch of fabric sounded like a groan. He crossed his feet at the ankles, his dusty boots rubbing against each other, and took another swig of his beer. “Why do you care so much about getting it back?” 

James took a steady inhale of breath before sighing. “How many times do I have to explain this to you?” He growled, fingers flexing over the skull of the stone lion beside him. “It’s not about getting it back,” he spat, accenting each syllable. “It’s about taking it from David.”

Walsh looked at him dumbfounded, confused by the alcohol coursing through his system. “Then what will you do with it, if you don’t want it?”

James grinned evilly. “Torch it,” he shrugged. “Burn it to the ground whilst David watches.” James took a relieving breath, the mere thought of ending David’s life bliss. “And just for good measure, I think I’ll make him watch as I take his mate too.” 

James had never met Snow, as pack law dictated, but he had no doubt that she was as feisty as her daughter, if not more so, and having her would be something to be savoured. She would fight him, he knew that, but he had no doubt that with David incapacitated she would have no option but to yield to him, and once he had killed David, he would give her only two choices. She would become his mate, or she would die.

“You think David will let that happen?” Walsh scoffed, almost spitting out his beer.

“What choice will he have once he is dead?” James snickered.

“And what of the daughter?” Walsh licked his lips at the recollection of her, Emma’s blonde hair bobbing on her shoulders and the tightness in her muscles as she had run from Misthaven. “She looks like she could use someone to loosen her up.”

“Emma is how we get to Misthaven and the Nolan pack,” James said darkly. He pushed himself forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together in front of him. Walsh copied his actions, placing the beer bottle on the table between them and ignoring the condensation as it rolled down the dark brown glass and soaked into the wooden surface.

“Go on, sir,” Walsh prompted more seriously.

“Emma is David’s everything,” James began, his fingers idling with the edge of the table and pulling at a splintered piece of wood there. “If we want to hurt David, we have to hurt Emma.” James’ grin was sinister, the corners of his eyes wrinkling the side of his face as he looked up to Walsh. “That’s where you come in,” he smirked.

“Oh, yes!” Walsh hissed, slapping his knee. He shuffled his feet nervously against the grit under his shoes. “What do you need me to do?” He asked obediently, wide-eyed and as excited as a dog whose master was about to throw a ball.

“What is the worst thing that could possibly happen to Emma?” James waited, but Walsh’s silent pause prompted him to answer for his beta. “Exile,” James said smoothly with a nod.

“I’m confused,” Walsh sagged back in his chair, the buzz of alcohol clouding his ability to focus on what James was saying. “Why would David exile his own daughter?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” James shrugged, setting himself back into his own seat and resting his ankle over his knee. “Maybe, because she was pregnant?”

“Emma’s pregnant?” Walsh frowned, his lips turning upside down in a grimace. 

“No, you fucking idiot,” James sighed, rolling his eyes. He lifted his arm and pointed a menacing finger at Walsh. “You, are going to follow Emma and work out when her heat is. Then you are going to finally get what you want and...”

“But what if she resists?” Walsh interrupted impatiently, the thought of having Emma making him salivate.

James shrugged. “Take her,” he repeated darkly, his teeth grinding together at each word. “Make her suffer. Break her, I don’t care. Just make sure you do it properly and she ends up with a pup inside of her who David will have to exile her for.”

“Because I am a loner,” Walsh declared proudly, his grin like that of a child.

“Indeed,” James sighed, wondering how Walsh had managed to survive on his own before they had crossed paths. “David Nolan will have no choice but to follow the Chronicle and exile his only daughter for carrying the illegitimate child.”

The Chronicle was known to all werewolves, from all walks of life, and it outlined how they should live. Exile was a big part of being a loner or even worse, a mongrel, and the reasons one was exiled varied, but the Chronicle was very specific when it came to illicit affairs and the products of those trysts. If Emma was to fall pregnant with the child of a loner or a mongrel, David would have to follow centuries old protocol and send her away. 

She would lose all rights to Misthaven, leaving David without an heir, and his future as Alpha uncertain. How could an Alpha lead without an heir? Who was he if he had nobody to teach about being Alpha? No one to pass on the knowledge about leadership to? David would be lost, his world in tatters and he would be left in such an emotional state of despair, James would have the perfect opportunity to attack Misthaven.

“It’s perfect,” Walsh smirked, reaching for his beer again.

“David will be weak,” James clarified his thoughts out loud, grinding his teeth through his smile. “His whole pack will be in mourning over the loss of an heir and he won’t see an attack coming.”

“You’re so smart, boss,” Walsh grinned happily, lightly scratching the peppering of stubble that was adorning his chin. He was scruffy and disgusting, but strong, and James couldn’t think of anyone more suitable for the job of defiling his niece.

“So what are you waiting for?” James barked and Walsh almost spat his beer out as he jumped in his seat. “Get out there and find her!”

“Yes, sir!” Walsh scrambled to his feet, his alpha’s stern words making him jump into action, sobering instantly.

“Go back to Misthaven, pick up her scent, and find her.” James instructed forcefully, an eerie nicety to his words that Walsh knew was faked and had earned him a scar or two for misinterpreting before.

“I will,” Walsh nodded eagerly. “What will you do?” He frowned, sliding his arms into the ripped leather jacket that was previously hanging over the back of his chair.

James smirked to himself, his tongue pressing the back of his front teeth as he stared at the crumbling lion beside him. It had taken the brunt of his anger over the last few decades and James smoothed his hand over the rough, sunken eye socket of its face where he had gouged out its eye about five years ago. “I’ve waited long enough for this moment to present itself. I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time whilst I wait a bit longer.”


	7. Chapter 7

They had run for hours before they had watched the sunrise, through isolated forests, their feet pounding the ground like thundering horses and the freedom of the breeze in their fur. Emma never wanted it to end, but when Killian had finally stopped at a clearing, the steep drop over a ledge looming, Emma hadn’t even noticed. She was too awestruck by the beauty of a rising sun, something she had never witnessed before, to notice the way Killian was equally as awestruck by her. She could feel him staring, his loving gaze fixed upon her profile as the sun lit up her face, warming every inch of her skin through her pelt and making her feel alive for the first time in her life. It was something so simple, that happened every single day, and yet it was the first time she was actually seeing it. All because of Killian.

They had slept at the top of the cliff for a few hours, the city below them steadily coming to life as people began to adopt their morning routines. Traffic started to increase in volume, buzzing through the streets with a variety of horns being honked in time with the birds, the song of humanity at rush hour alerting them finally and rousing them from their slumber. Killian had stirred first, rising to his feet with an arch of his elongated spine followed by a forward stretch, his claws tugging through the dirt and leaving track lines in the soil. 

Once they had made their way back to Killian’s car, the windows blacked out to hide the stash of clothing he had on the back seat, they changed back to human form. Killian first, ever the gentleman, shifted his form out of her sight on one side of the car, quickly huddling against the car to hide his nakedness and pulled the door open. Emma had hopped in, like a faithful pet and he had joined her on the back seat after she too had shifted back into human form and began to dress.

There were times when shifting in front of others was forbidden or frowned upon. Werewolves were never permitted to change in front of a human, regardless of circumstances, and the act was punishable with banishment from the pack. Changing in front of another wolf was considered taboo and was only to happen in front of a spouse, courted or family member. It certainly wasn’t considered proper to change in front of a wolf you had just met and Killian knew enough about wolf culture to respect Emma’s reputation and look away as her bones realigned in human form and left her gloriously naked on his back seat.

After they had returned back to Killian’s loft, a hot shower awaited them. They stood together under the steaming hot spray, washing away the evidence of the night where they had slept in the dirt and ran through the forest. Killian picked the leaves from Emma’s dirty blonde locks with a chuckle and she had smoothed her soap filled hands through his chest hair and over his shoulders, the simple act of washing sparking their desire instantly, Killian’s wolfish grin growing wider as he had slammed her against the shower wall.

Three times they had copulated that night. If their muscles were not aching enough from the miles and miles of running they had done, they had overexerted themselves in the bedroom too. Which was why, when Emma’s phone began to vibrate itself across the dull wooden surface of Killian’s nightstand, the noise a distant echo in her mind, she thought she might have been dreaming.

She ignored it at first and it stopped, the gentle, soft wheezing sound coming from the man lying beside her, uninterrupted, as Killian continued to snore in a steady rhythm. Emma thought she could ignore her parents forever, but it seemed they had other ideas. When a Nolan wanted to be known, they would do anything in their power to make sure it was so. So when the phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, she peeled open a slightly sticky eye, reached for the device with effort and squinted at the name on the display.

Graham.

She groaned and then noticed the nine other missed calls from a combination of Graham, her mother and one from her father. David, it seemed, could have others do his bidding for him to any extent. 

“Leave it, love,” Killian grumbled groggily, reminding her of his presence as he shuffled closer to her under the sheet until the soft, slightly curled hair on his chest pressed against her back. It tickled her skin and Emma smiled to herself, curling her body into a ball and absorbing his warmth along her spine. Killian pulled her to him, sliding an arm under her neck and wrapping her up in his embrace whilst he planted soft kisses to her bare shoulder.

“It could be important,” Emma fought the words out of her mouth, the safety of Killian’s arms the only place she really wanted to be.

“I have something far more urgent that needs your attention,” he whispered gruffly, his voice changed by sleep and need, his lips curving into a smirk as he pressed them to her skin once more. Emma felt him growing harder against the curve of her behind, his body much more awake than his mind as he lay there with his eyes closed and his arms tightening around her much smaller frame. “Mmmmm,” he hummed contently, rocking his hips forward a little. “You smell good,” he sighed, burying his nose into the skin of her neck and under the warmth of her hair.

“I smell like sex,” Emma pouted, reaching her hand behind her head and lacing her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, holding his head still and making sure his lips never left her skin. She sucked in a breath when his lips parted and he sucked on the pounding blood in her neck, his hands snaking over her torso and lightly skimming over her already hard nipples. “I smell like a big bad wolf kept me up all night having sex.”

“Like I said,” Killian growled against her skin, his hand sliding down over her flat stomach and to the apex of her thighs. “You smell good,” he rasped, tongue tracing the outside of her ear, his entire body writhing against hers.

Emma groaned and her entire body went limp in his arms. She couldn’t think, her mind fuzzy, and all she could focus on was Killian's hands on her skin. They were like flames licking at her flesh, searing his fingerprints into her soul. The way his voice penetrated her ears in a low, gravelly rasp as he whimpered her name, made every hair on her body stand to attention. The only thing she could do was gasp and let him dominate her, the thought of his solid length between her legs making her instantly wet.

“God, who are you?” Emma mumbled, kissing the dark-haired forearms that were holding her so securely. She was weak to his affections, her guard walls crumbling away and her body relenting to his touch obediently.

Killian grinned against her back, his nose pressed firmly to her skin and every breath full of her intoxicating scent that coated his tongue and reminded him of her divine taste. He could smell her arousal when she gently parted her thighs to allow his hand to slip between them, his fingers skimming over the outer curve of her lips to gather up some of the watery nectar, his eyebrow jumping up on his face with a cocky smirk.

“Gods, Emma…” He stuttered in a wrecked voice. Finding her so wet, so ready and so turned on by him simply touching her was the most powerful he had ever felt. Knowing that Emma’s body would have this sort of reaction to the barest of touches made Killian shake with anticipation of what else he could do to her. “...all this for me?”

Emma had never felt this way before and she barely recognized the sound that escaped her mouth. She was strong, fearless and had rearranged the faces of many of her enemies, but right now, in Killian’s arms, she was somebody else. She was brought to her knees by a wolf who was neither big or imposing like her species was often drawn to, and if anything, Killian was more human in her eyes. His compassion for her and his sweet nature made her think about the sort of person she wanted to mate with, and it most certainly wasn’t the type of wolf her family wanted for her.

It was Killian. 

Deep down, in the phases of her dreams, Emma had always known it was Killian. It was just now becoming her reality. Another reality came crashing into her when her phone began to alert them both of its presence once more, the plastic shelled device dancing across the nightstand as it vibrated in long, extended intervals. 

“No!” Emma whined, her back fitting perfectly against Killian’s chest when she arched herself into him. She sighed, the ebb of her arousal withering away and she covered her face with a frustrated grip of her hand. Killian simply chuckled, loosening his grip on her and releasing her from his grasp, rolling away from her so he was laying on his back.

“You should get that,” Killian said with a smile, one hand behind his head as he rested against the brick wall behind his bed. “They seem insistent.” 

“Don’t move,” Emma commanded, her eyes flicking down his exposed torso to where his erection was tenting the soft sheet at his waist. 

“As you wish,” he bowed his head and gave her a wink.

Emma sighed again, reaching for the offending device at the bedside, her body barely covered by the sheet around her torso as she leaned across the bed. The caller ID once again flashed with the name of the man she was supposed to marry, and Emma rolled her eyes as she slid her thumb across the cold, glass screen and connected the call.

“What?” she snapped, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hello to you too,” Graham huffed. “Bad time?” Graham teased on the other end of the line.

“You’ve interrupted something very important,” Emma said slowly, pushing herself back up into a sitting position and turning her body so she was sitting beside Killian. He reached out, unable to resist her any longer and trailed a fingertip over the sheet covering her hip, enjoying the way she tried to keep her composure through her smirk.

“More important than your family?” Graham asked firmly.

Killian’s light touches turned into mischievous tugs on the sheet, his own smirk growing wider across his face when he saw Emma try to keep her chest covered. She didn’t look at him, instead giving him a sideways, knowing glance out of the corner of her eye and running her tongue over her lips salaciously. “I’ve told them, I need time.”

“Yeah, I know, but you know your father,” Graham insisted. “Patience is not his virtue.”

“Nor mine,” Killian whispered, closing the gap between them and pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to her shoulder. Emma tried to ignore him, her body's reaction betraying her instantly as her eyes fell closed and she visibly gulped.

“Who is that?” Graham almost growled on the other end of the line. Emma would always be like his sister, and his protective streak knew no limits. “Where are you?” he demanded a little more harshly, his accent thickening with the deepness of his voice.

“No one you have to concern yourself with.” Emma gasped whenKillian pushed her to lie back into the plump pillows. She stifled a giggle, her hair tumbling over her face as she hit the mattress and Killian quirked an eyebrow at her as he dove under the sheet and straddled her waist. Emma couldn’t hide her smile, the phone pressed hard to her head as if it were the only thing she could do at that moment, her eyes flitting over the thick thatch of black hairs on Killian’s chest and her eyes following it down over his stomach as he sat back on his heels. 

“Is he human?” Graham demanded darkly. Emma could almost hear him clenching his jaw on the other end of the phone, but she didn’t care. She was too distracted by the way Killian was licking his lips and enjoying the new view the shifting bedsheet had exposed.

“Absolutely not,” Emma replied and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down hard on the kiss bruised flesh when Killian fell forward on all fours over her and dipped his head to kiss her jaw.

“Emma,” Graham warned with a sigh. “You know your father’s rules on wolves outside of the pack.”

Killian kissed his way down her neck, over the dip in her throat and across the top of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled under the light brush of his chest hair, and her back arched off the bed in a desperate attempt to get closer to him, but Killian was a tease and he arched his own back away from her body with a boyish grin. Emma finally couldn’t hold in her elation any longer, and she used her free hand to grab onto Killian’s sleep messed hair that was busy tickling the side of her bosom as he kissed his way down through the valley of her breasts.

“Emma,” Graham repeated her name when he received no response. “Are you listening?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Emma swallowed hard, trying to clear her thoughts. All she could focus on was Killian’s eyes and how they had transformed into the darkest shade of blue she had ever seen piercing into her, telling her his intentions with a locked stare that sent a new wave of excitement straight to her core.

“Emma, you need to come home,” Graham sighed angrily. 

“I need to come…” Emma repeated huskily, her voice trailing off when Killian reached her lightly haired mound, and the sheet previously covering both of them had entirely fallen off the bed behind him. He pressed his nose to her skin, inhaling the rich aroma of her wetness as his hands skimmed up her smooth thighs. 

Her words were like music to Killian’s ears and he didn’t know who was on the other end of the line, only that it was a man and he was clearly irritated, but if Emma didn’t hang up soon, he thought he might implode from the strain of his erection bobbing proudly against his stomach. “Hang up the phone, love,” he rasped, shifting his position so he was sitting between Emma’s thighs. “Hang up the phone and I’ll give you what you need.”

Emma couldn’t stop the whine escaping her throat as she watched Killian gently part her legs, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, his lips twitching into a seductive smirk and his hooded stare dark with desire. He lifted one of his hands to his mouth and trailed a finger around his lips, his tongue arting out to tease his fingertip as if it were the burning bundle of nerves currently exposed to his hungry view. 

“Emma?” Graham snapped, his voice irritated. “Do you understand what’s happening? What _will_ happen if you don’t come home?” Graham’s words were distant in her ears and all Emma could think about was where Killian was going to put the finger he was casually licking the tip of.

“Hang up,” Killian said again, his voice more commanding. He finally touched her, his damp fingertip ghosting over her clit that screamed for his attention between her legs. Emma gasped, sucking in a huge breath that almost sounded like she was in pain.

“Emma!” Graham screeched. “What’s going on?”

Killian arched his brow at her, his lip rolling under his teeth as he sat between her legs and assaulted her hard nub. His other hand was occupied on his own length as he wrapped his fingers around himself and began fisting his erection slowly. It was torture to watch, knowing what he felt like when he was buried deep inside of her, and Emma coughed nervously, clearing her throat.

“Graham, I have to go,” Emma whimpered, trying to hide the arousal in her voice. “Don’t call back,” she barked, ending the call and tossing her phone onto the floor where it landed with a clatter against the rustic, dark hardwood.

“Who’s Graham?” Killian smirked cockily, switching his finger for his thumb and applying a little more pressure to her sensitive clit. Emma groaned in frustration, the pressure building in her lower gut as her leg began to shake beside his thigh.

“He’s no one of importance,” Emma dismissed casually, her eyes rolling back in her head when Killian’s thumb brushed her clit in just the right way, sending a shiver through her entire body.

Killian continued to stroke himself, smearing the precum that had oozed from his tip over his palm and using it as a form of lubricant. “Why do you have to go home?” He pressed idly, watching Emma writhe under his touch. She was mesmerizing and Killian felt a sudden pang of possession, his submissive wolf side making way for his dominant human side.

“It’s bad form to eavesdrop a...conversation,” Emma teased, biting her bottom lip before the last word when he changed his torture once again and began circling her clit under two fingers pressed together.

“Is it?” He purred innocently and shuffled himself closer, the tip of his erection slipping between her folds. Her warmth coated him like hot wax and it made both of them take a sharp breath.

“And it’s even worse form to tease me,” Emma whimpered, her muscles clenching and rippling in an attempt to pull him deeper.

“Is it?” Killian rocked his hips forward and sank into her a little more, his girth stretching her deliciously before he pulled himself back out a little and left her sighing in vexation.

“God, Killian, you know it is,” Emma whined, slapping his thigh that was tucked up beside her buttocks.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be anything less than a gentleman,” he resigned, feigning ignorance and pulling himself out of her totally. “So how can I make it up to you?” 

Emma took in his cocksure grin, the way his hand was slowly stroking his impressive erection and the sight of pink blush that had crept up his neck all the way to his ear tips. She smiled at him coyly and let her eyes roam over his body once more, pausing on the way his thumb was swiping over the tip of his member so gingerly and yet making it twitch with such a response, Emma could only imagine how it would taste under her tongue.

“I want…” Emma began slowly, her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip.

“Yes, love?” Killian prompted, moving to lean forward. He loomed over her and reached for the nightstand drawer, pulled it open and fished around inside. Emma tried to watch what he was doing, but his movement had caused him to slip back inside of her. She stiffened instantly, letting out a breath she had been holding, and clutched onto his bicep almost painfully. 

“I want you to do that again,” Emma shuddered, her voice quaking. 

 

“You mean, this?” Killian rolled his hips as he retrieved a length of silk from the drawer, sliding the material through his fingers and reaching up to wrap it around the bedpost above her head with an exaggerated grunt. 

“Yes,” Emma hissed, her body relaxing a little against his ministrations. She only peeled her eyes open again when Killian lifted her hands above her head, gently resting them against her pillow and looping the silk around her wrists. “What are you…?”

“Do you trust me?” Killian asked softly, making sure the silk was tied tight enough so she couldn’t get free, but loose enough so she wouldn’t feel unable to escape should she want to. When he was happy with the knots, Killian trailed his hands down her arms and locked eyes with her once more. “Do you?” he pressed, one hand falling to her hip where he gripped at her skin roughly.

“Yes,” Emma said hoarsely, the words leaving her mouth in nothing more than a whisper.

“Say it,” Killian rasped, his entire body stiffening as he refrained from moving inside of her.

“I trust you,” Emma whined. “Now, be a gent,” she growled, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him against her sex, his erection buried to the hilt inside of her unexpectedly and making both of them gasp. His hand on her hip contracted, fingers digging into her flesh with a burn that made Emma grit her teeth with painful pleasure, and the other shot up to grip her jaw, his pitch black stare boring into her as he awaited her next words. “And fuck me.”

Not more than a nanosecond passed before Killian was crushing his lips to hers and gobbling up the moans that escaped her mouth as he angled his hips and his hardness pressed against her g-spot. He was already so worked up, having had an erection for a while now, that the sight of Emma’s breasts jiggling up and down with the force of each of his thrusts was like a new kind of persecution for his body.

Emma’s thighs tightened around his waist, making sure he was deep inside of her as he pounded her into the mattress, his pants filling her ears as he chased down her orgasm. Emma pulled against her restraints, excited by the concept of not being able to touch him and being at his mercy. It was new for her, to allow herself such a submission, especially with someone so new, but her fear was outweighed by her need for him.

She craved him.

“So wet for me,” Killian purred salaciously, hands skimming over the mounds of her breasts and gently kneading the flesh in his hands. 

“All for you,” Emma whimpered, her voice cracking in her throat as it climbed higher in pitch, her fingers gripping the silk length above her head like it was her only tether to reality. 

Killian changed his angle suddenly, hooking his arms under her knees and folding her almost in half, planting his hands on either side of her body firmly. His fingers gripped the sheet as he increased his pace, the raw, dirty movement of his hips sending a tingle down her spine.

“Are you going to come for me, love?” Killian grunted, his lips almost touching hers. His breath fogged against her face as he studied Emma’s expression, the gratification plastered across her features, locks of blonde hair framing her face and splayed across the pillows.

“Yes,” Emma gasped, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the silk harder. “God, yes!” She cried woefully, so close to her rapture that she felt like sobbing.

Killian could feel her inner muscles begin to shudder, rippling along his length everytime he fully entered her, and Emma’s soft moans left her lungs. Emma felt the hair on her arms stand to attention, the shimmer of delight coursing through her every fiber and making her begin to shake. Steadying his drive, Killian pressed his lips to hers at the exact moment her orgasm hit, her back arching off the bed and her whole body paralyzed with pleasure.

She called out into his mouth, her words almost lost in a high-pitched squeak that he hungrily swallowed as he followed her into euphoria, his breathing becoming erratic and his hand flying up to pull the quick release knot he had tied around the bedpost. Emma’s hands flew around his neck, pulling him to her harder as she shook through her climax, Killian’s browline smudging his sweat against the skin of her neck as he buried his face into the crook there and shot his seed deep into her pulsating depths.

“Oh, fuck,” Emma panted, her voice still a quiver and her clit throbbing.

“Aye,” Killian managed weakly, his body suddenly heavy and tingling. He tried not to crush her as he fought for breath, the silk still tied around one of her wrists dangling over his back and tickling him a little.

“Now you’ve gone and made it so much harder,” Emma sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s that?” Killian asked her, lifting his head from her shoulders and his brow knitting together in confusion.

“Leaving,” Emma said sadly, toying with the slightly damp hair at the base of his skull.

“You have to go home.” It wasn’t a question. Killian searched her eyes, reading the sadness across her features. He brushed a stray strand of her blonde locks from her brow, tucking it behind the red hot skin of her ear before tenderly pressing his lips to hers. He let them linger, silencing her with his kiss until they absolutely needed to breathe once more, and he rested his forehead against her.

“I have to go home,” Emma confirmed sadly, feeling like she was missing the brush of his knuckles against the apple of her cheek before the words had even left her mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

If Emma really sat and thought about it, she hadn’t missed Misthaven at all. She had missed her parents, that much she could admit, but her home was not what drew her back. It was her guilt. Graham had been right. Running out on an alpha was a poor choice to make, especially when that alpha was your father, and there was no way you could run forever. If an alpha wanted you found, you would be found.

Emma had showered and made her way back to her truck. It had taken her almost a day to drive home from God only knows where, and the second she heard the crunch of gravel under her tires, and the huge manor house looming into view, she could practically hear her father’s disapproval from the bottom of the mile long driveway. With a sigh, she slowed her truck to a crawl, dragging out the time it would take her to reach the house.

There was no doubt about it; Emma would have to first apologize, and then try to reason with her father regarding her fated marriage to Graham. Maybe she could negotiate? Maybe if her father just met Killian, he would see how much she liked him? Maybe she could explain her dream and how she felt they were connected in some way? Maybe she could talk to her mother first, or maybe she could have her mother present when she talked to her father? 

Emma didn’t like maybes. There were too many variables.

The house was seemingly empty when she stopped the truck at the side, the engine clicking as it cooled down in the shadow of the nearby barn. Emma peered out of the windshield but there were was no movement in any of the windows, which she thought odd. Misthaven was more than just her family home. It was where the pack spent most of their time, planning, talking and arranging things, and Emma was not used to seeing the place so empty.

She pulled the brittle plastic handle on the inside of her truck door, letting it spring back with a thud as she pushed the door open. The scent of her father hit her instantly, wafting into the cab of the truck on a downwind that made her gulp with anticipation. Emma had been gone for nearly four days and that was more than enough time for her fate to have been decided by the council who governed Misthaven politics, but luckily for her, she could only find faint traces of them in the breeze, which meant they hadn’t been here recently.

Even though Emma was practically royalty, she was not immune to pack law. She only hoped that her father had seen her anger and outburst, which included running away, as a child like tantrum and nothing else. She had meant no disrespect to the pack by leaving, but Graham’s words played over and over in her head the longer she took to reach the house and Emma couldn’t help but feel like she might be about to be punished.

Werewolf children were not punished in the same way human children were. They were stronger, more robust, and it was not unheard of for werewolf parents to be seriously injured during a temper tantrum as they tried to corral their wildling cub into a safe place. Were kids were unpredictable at best, neither understanding or embracing their abilities in the correct way, which Emma remembered too fondly. Her father had a cage in the basement intended for interrogations of mongrels, but it wasn’t above him to use it as a time out for his spitfire of a child. 

It was one of the reasons why Were kids had their own school system and were kept from human kids until they could control their heightened rage and quell the beast within them. As teenagers, most Werewolves had experienced many years of changes and knew how to control their shift, using the popular ruse of _‘just moved to the area’_ to explain their sudden appearance in high school. Whilst werewolves lived life by the Chronicle, they still needed to learn the human ways in order to blend in more easily.

Emma reached the back door of the house, the white frame window on the top half of the door framed by some cozy curtains on the inside. They were for her mother’s privacy and because she was a homemaker, but they had always been there and reminded Emma of her childhood, even half expecting her mother to peer out between the floral bunches at any second and call her and Graham for their dinner. 

With a deep breath, Emma twisted the doorknob, and the door swung open with a creak she knew everyone heard. Heightened hearing was one of the many werewolf traits, and in an attempt to lessen her presence, Emma toed off her shoes at the door and was left to pad barefoot across the kitchen. There was no noise around the lower level of the house which made Emma wary, only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall as she made her way to the staircase.

“Emma,” David murmured, his voice low and deep, but laced with a hint of relief that made Emma relax. He was her dad right now, and she could tell that just by the way he had uttered her name.

She froze, one hand on the huge oak staircase bannister as she turned around slowly, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “Dad…”

“Where have you been?” David demanded, his hands balling into fists inside the pockets of his jeans, something Emma keenly noticed with a flicker of her gaze.

“Where’s Mom?” Emma asked nervously, trying to avoid his question. She accented the last word, almost calling it up the stairs as if her mother could come and save her from her father’s wrath.

“Where did you go?” David repeated firmly, taking in Emma’s disheveled appearance. She was, thankfully, no longer wearing the red dress but her now dried clothes were wrinkled beyond comprehension, smeared in dried dirt and littered with tiny specks of stone from where she had discarded them so hastily in the rain. “Have you been sleeping rough?”

For a second, Emma recognized the tone of worry in his voice and was tempted to lie to him. For a second, she forgot the kind of trouble that could get her into. And even worse, for more than a second, she had forgotten about the keen sense of smell all werewolves had until she saw David tilt his head backward and narrow his eyes at her.

“Dad, don't smell me,” she blushed, turning towards the stairs once more. All she had to do was make it up the stairs. All she had to do was make it to her room where her scent would overwhelm her body and hide what she had so idiotically forgotten to mask. “It’s weird,” Emma threw in casually, taking a step onto the stairs.

“Stop,” David commanded darkly, his voice now that of her alpha. He pulled his hands from his pockets and held his hand up to her, halting her excuses and her movement. Emma sagged on the first step of the stairs, looking down at her bare feet. 

“Dad, I can explain,” Emma began but David closed his splayed palm into a tight fist to silence her, extending a finger to her as he let out an angry breath. Emma saw his jaw clench, the muscle along his face twitching under the grey of his stubble and he pinched his eyes closed in an attempt to calm himself. “Dad…”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” David bit out through a clenched jaw. “Where have you been?”

“Nowhere,” Emma said softly, her cheeks reddening under his stare. It wasn’t a million miles from the truth. She didn’t actually know if she could point out where she had been on a map, only noticing a few town signs between here and there, but she knew she had at least crossed state lines.

“Okay,” David said with an eerie calmness. “Let’s try this one.” He took a step forward, watching his feet as he advanced on her, arms crossing over the rock hard muscles on his chest that, even at his age, spoke volumes of his power and strength. “Who have you been with?”

Emma’s face paled instantly, the rosy tint to her cheeks fading away instantly when her throat went dry and her entire body buzzed with anticipation. She knew he could smell Killian on her, there was no denying he had left his mark on every inch of her body, and Emma couldn’t even stop the next words falling from her mouth in a mumble. “No one.”

“Dammit, Emma! Don’t lie to me!” David’s voice boomed through the empty hall and the chimes in the old grandfather clock vibrated low in the casing. Emma jumped, her whole body turning rigid and her fingernails turned white as she clutched the railing harder, the back of her neck turning clammy with sweat.

“He’s a good wolf,” Emma grumbled, her heart pounding in her chest, the rush of blood in her ears almost deafening.

“Oh,” David mocked. “He’s a good wolf.” His face was unmoved, stony and a mixture of anger and disappointment that cut Emma deep. “If he is such a good wolf, why don’t you tell me his name?”

“What, so you can hunt him down and have him killed?” 

David looked at her sternly, like she was reading a very open book, his thoughts out there for all to see. 

“I don’t think so,” Emma laughed with a shake of her head.

“I thought you said he was a good wolf?” David arched his brow at her, watching her squirm.

“I’m not telling you,” Emma said firmly, staring at her father with the darkened stare of her inner wolf, her lips curling a little at his trickery.

“Yes. You will. You think I can't smell him on you?” David stepped forward again, his nose wrinkling up as he inhaled the foreign scent covering his daughter. “If you've spent time with another wolf I have a right to know about him and his pack.”

“As my father or as my alpha?” Emma said spitefully, her own anger bubbling to the surface.

“Both,” David growled. “I am both.” David pulled his arms tighter across his chest with his aggravation, his stare piercing right into Emma’s. They were both as stubborn as the other, and she did not look away. “Emma, you forget your place,” David snarled with a knowing glare, direct eye contact often a challenge from another wolf. If Emma were any other wolf, David would have ripped her throat out by now, but his daughter knew her rank and looked away quickly.

“I don’t know about his pack,” Emma muttered to her chest, her head tipped downwards in submission. “It never came up.”

“What about ours, Emma?” David chastised gruffly. “Does he know of your pack? Does he know who you are?” 

Emma gave David a guilty, sideways glance like she used to as a puppy that gave him his answer. 

“Of course he doesn’t.” David rolled his eyes, moving his hands to his hips. “He wouldn’t have touched you if he had known where you belong.”

“Where I _belong_?” Emma spat, the tears beginning to burn at her eyelids. An unwelcome lump formed in her throat, constricting her breathing, and she tried to swallow it down. David was the only person who could make her cry, but she wasn’t crying because of sadness; it was because she knew he was right. “I don’t want to marry Graham,” she sobbed softly, the hot sting of tears drawing lines down her face.

“I know you feel that way now, but in time you'll see the rightness of such a match.” David nodded, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile that Emma grimaced at.

“Don’t you think it’s time to break tradition?” Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. “I don’t love Graham. I can’t love Graham.” 

Her voice was small and almost a whisper, her mind conjuring images of the black wolf she might never get to see again. Emma knew she would have to make a choice; Graham or Killian. The black wolf from her dreams, or the grey wolf from her reality that her father had promised her to. There was no choice that wouldn’t end in some sort of heartache, or worse still, someone getting hurt, exiled or killed.

“Tradition protects us. You know that. Without tradition what would become of our way of life?” David paused, inviting Emma to answer, but she did not, instead scraping her fingernail across the polished wood of the banister with a frustrated pout. “You're only refusing to love Graham because of some latent need to rebel. That's all this fling with the other wolf was; rebellion. Plain and simple.”

“It’s not that!” Emma cried. “You don’t know him like I do! Maybe if you met him…” Emma’s desperate words were cut off by David again, his voice echoing through the entire house as his ire grew.

“I won't have it, Emma! I won't have my daughter cavorting with some filthy wolf when there is a strong, noble wolf worthy of you and the position within the pack.”

“Filthy wolf?” Emma repeated his words with disgust, her teeth grinding together and her watery green eyes fixed on his in an absolute challenge of dominance. Emma didn’t care that he was her father. She didn’t care that he was her alpha. All she cared about was Killian because when she was with him, he never made her feel like this. Emma felt small and used, like a lamb to slaughter, the prized meat at a banquet that only the worthy could indulge in. “I hate you, and I hate this pack!” Emma screamed, feet pounding against the old oak steps as she ran upstairs. She was just inside her bedroom door when she saw the flash of her father’s figure through the crack reaching the top of the staircase, a scowl on his face and his cheeks prickled with red.

“Emma!” David shouted, her name lost in the slam of the door.

“What’s going on?” Snow called out, rushing out of the main bedroom in just a towel, her skin still tinged with pink from the scalding shower she had just taken. “Why are you shouting?” She panted, hurriedly walking barefoot down the hall toward David who turned to look at her with a grunt.

“Our daughter has been…” He paused, pressing his lips together and pounding a balled fist against Emma’s door. He couldn’t say the words out loud. It was hard enough knowing that his daughter was fighting his every intention, but to know that she was doing so with a strange, unknown werewolf really made his inner wolf snarl with fury. “Emma!” 

“Hey!” Snow soothed quickly, grabbing David’s forearm and halting his assault on the white, wooden door. “Calm down and talk to me,” she pleaded lovingly when she felt him relax at her touch.

“There is a wolf,” David ground his jaws together tightly, the words leaving a foul taste on the tip of his tongue. “He’s defiled our daughter.”

“A wolf? He did what?” Snow gasped, now realising what the foreign tang in the back of her nostrils was. The scent must have wafted from Emma as she entered her room, strong and musky, lingering in the hall. “Did she tell you that?” Snow asked worried, casting a glance to the door in front of them. “Is Emma okay?”

A million thoughts crossed Snow’s mind in that exact moment. With the information she had been given, she immediately assumed Emma had been attacked, and some worthless mongrels who knew who she was, had decided to overpower her and have their way. It was a fear she lived with daily. Emma was a strong wolf, but what made her strong was her pack, and without them she was so vulnerable to the wannabe purebloods who hated the Misthaven pack.

“Emma?” Snow called out tentatively against the wood, her breath fogging back in her face. She could hear Emma sobbing behind the door, probably into her pillow, the sounds of her cries muffled. “Its Mom, can I come in?”

There was a sudden silence when Emma’s sobbing stopped and Snow looked at David with a worried expression. They barely had time to register each other's features before they heard the scraping noise of furniture against the wooden floor and then the thud of the dresser hitting the door. Snow frowned, her short, cropped hairstyle that was dusted with long grey hairs still wet and dripping onto her shoulders.

“What’s going on?” Graham’s Irish tones called down the hall. He had been sleeping, his t-shirt twisted around his torso as he emerged from his own quarters rubbing a finger against his eye socket. 

“Emma!” David shouted, grabbing the brass knob of the door and almost headbutting it when it failed to move.

“Emma?” Graham repeated worriedly, his face flushed at her name said with such distress.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” Snow squealed, slapping David’s arm. “Break the door down!”

“What’s happening?” Graham was suddenly more awake, rushing to David’s side as his alpha braced himself for impact and slammedhis shoulder into the solid mass in front of him. Graham didn’t get an answer, only a knowing look that told him to shut up and help. Graham’s bare feet slipped against the dusty wooden floor on the landing as he stood next to David and counted to three, both of them propelling all their weight against the door in tandem.

The door gave way on the third try, the hinges groaning as the door lock broke open and it swung open just an inch. Emma had pushed her dresser in front of the doorway, stopping the door from opening fully, but as David slid his head through the narrow crack he could see Emma swinging her legs out of the second story window and looking over her shoulder at him, sorrow in her eyes, as she pushed herself from the ledge.

“Emma!” David grunted, his head stuck in the doorway. He clenched his jaw and pushed with all his might, his arms shaking and a vein throbbing prominently on his forehead. Finally, the dresser gave in and moved, the grind of wood against wood echoing through the house. David and Graham burst into the room, reaching the window with stabbing pains in their shoulders that they ignored as Emma’s truck left a trail of dust in its wake, flicking stones out behind the tires as she sped from Misthaven once more.

“She’s going to him,” David mumbled darkly.

“Who?” Graham asked, panicked. He studied his alpha’s profile for a second before turning back to the distant speck that was Emma’s beat up red pickup.

“The wolf,” David snarled, annoyed that he didn’t know the wolf’s name or where he was from. So many variables posed a very real risk to his pack and it seemed Emma was the most volatile.

“Track her,” David commanded, fingers flexing at his side. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the conflict of his choice clearly weighing heavy on his mind. “Find her. Find him. Bring her home.” David’s voice was grave and Graham knew, because he had heard it before, he had more intentions.

“And the wolf?” Graham whispered gruffly, shooting a glance over to the doorway where Mary Margaret was studying the broken lock with a sigh. David turned to him, fire in his eyes and his lip curling back in a wolfish snarl.

“Kill him.”

\--

_Killian walks through the glenn, the grass under his feet soft but dewy, the glint of the water droplets silvery under the light of the moon. There is always a full moon and it hangs silently in the night, unobstructed by clouds, and as bright as the sun. The pull of the moon to werewolves is a myth, but there is something about his dream that has Killian yearning to return time and time again. It isn’t the moon that draws him though, but the sound of his companion as she stalks him through the woods._

_She never leaves his side, always hidden behind the copse, but she can't ever hide the emerald glow of her eyes as they peer at him through the thicket. She pants softly behind the brush, ears on a swivel and golden tipped hairs like embers in the night. Killian’s sensitive hearing always hears her when she steps on a position revealing twig that snaps under her weight. He can smell her, the lady-wolf scent invading his human nostrils and coating his tongue in her musk - something that has his skin buzzing with excitement._

_“I know you’re there,” Killian whispers through his smile, his eyes flicking to the ground beside his feet. She appears there, at his side like a trusty follower, exiting the trees and making herself known with a soft, wolf whine. “Come out, love,” he encourages with a sideways nod of his head, his hand itching at his side to feel the softness of her fur._

_Her shadow looms across the clearing, the short grass littered with tiny flowers that are crushed silently under her massive paw pads temporarily before springing back into position when she lifts her feet. Killian can hear her approaching, the bristle of her fur in the gentle cool breeze making him smile to himself as he awaits her presence at his side. Each night they walk together, side by side, and Killian feels more connected to her than anyone he has ever known in the real world._

_“There you are,” Killian smiles, sinking down onto one knee and extending his arm out to her. The green of her eyes cut through him, right to his soul, and at that moment Killian feels like she is the missing piece of his life. He feels like this is the wolf who has been sent to guide him, to show him how to be a werewolf, not the human he is expected to be. “Who are you?” he asks softly, his fingertips inches from the leather of her nose._

_The she-wolf sits, the multi-coloured layers of her fur visible as the breeze picks up and tousles her fur in a swirl. The canopy overhead is shaken by the wind and there is a lingering smell of fragrant flowers that have yet to break through the surface soil, mixed with an approaching rainfall Killian has yet to witness in his reverie. The she-wolf lets out a high pitched whine, and her ears droop a little, her melancholy cry of loss hitting Killian with a chill._

_“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, stepping closer. The wolf leans around his frame which blocks her vision. When he places his hands tentatively on her head, his fingers disappearing into the softness of her agouti fur, he feels her sigh. His touch doesn’t move her, only makes her emit a louder whine, her maw falling open as she pants excitedly, eager to show him something. With a frown, Killian follows her gaze, turning on the spot so he is standing beside her and his huge hand is lost in the mass of fur between her ears._

_What Killian sees stops his blood in his veins. His heart skips a beat, the panic taking the air from his lungs so suddenly, his face pales. His fingers curl into the wolf’s fur, the slightly longer hairs on the scruff of her neck coarser to his touch, but it’s all he has to anchor himself to something that makes him feel guarded. He sees a tombstone, the edges nicked and damaged by the elements, and bright yellow and white lichen have taken up residence around the name etched into the stone, but he can still see it clear as day, even in the twilight._

_Jones. The name is Jones._

_Through his shock, Killian has not even registered the loss of the warmth around his fingertips, the rough hairs of the she-wolf turning into the warm flesh of skin as a hand grips his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. He looks up from their hands, half expecting to see his father comforting him because his name is on the gravestone and he has been searching for him for so long. It makes sense his father is dead, but instead, he sees the one person he feels like he knows more intimately than he knows himself. For the first time since he’d seen the she-wolf, she has transformed into the woman he has become infatuated with._

_Emma._

_Killian is confused, when a single tear rolls down Emma’s face, the salty droplet glinting in the light of the moon against the shadow of her perfect profile. She turns, sorrow etched across her face as a sob hitches in the back of her throat._

_“He’s gone,” she whimpers, her voice cracking with emotion. “It’s over,” she adds, her voice fading away as a resonant bang echoes through the forest, sleeping birds flocking from the treetops, the moon becoming so bright it blinds him._

The same loud, thunderous bang shook Killian from his bed and he almost toppled out of it because he had been sleeping so close to the edge. The banging rang out again, his ears straining to pinpoint the source of the disturbance as he groggily threw the covers back and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. Killian rubbed the back of his neck, yawning lazily as he heard the noise again and in a moment of clarity, finally realised someone was trying to bash his door in.

With a growl, Killian pushed himself to his feet and stalked out of his room and across the minimalist apartment to the front door. Maybe his brother forgot his key? No, Liam wasn’t due back for a few more days and he would know where the spare one was. The soles of his feet stuck to the hardwood floor as he made his way to the door, his hand lazily scratching through the hairs on his chest and another yawn escaping his mouth.

“Alright!” Killian yelled, mumbling under his breath to whoever was so adamant on removing his front door from their hinges in the early hours. As he reached for the door handle, a familiar scent wafted under the door and he quickly yanked the door open, unsure if he was still dreaming. “Emma?”

“Hi,” she said shakily, her fingers laced together where she was wringing them nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Killian frowned at her, confused.

“You were clearly sleeping,” Emma said, waving at him to indicate his semi naked appearance. Killian was dressed in only his dark blue boxers and Emma had to fight her gaze from lingering for too long over his body in the semi lit hallway of his apartment building. “And I am breaking all sorts of rules coming here.” She began pacing back and forth outside of his front door, her hands resuming their fidgeting.

“Are you alright?” Killian pressed, but she responded so quickly, his concern was lost in her rant.

“It’s a massive invasion of territory to just turn up like this,” Emma rambled, shaking her head at herself. It was considered rude to turn up at another wolf’s house uninvited, and some would take it as a challenge for territory, but it hadn’t crossed Emma’s mind until this exact moment.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assured her with a soft smile. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather invade my territory.” Emma turned on the spot, pacing back in front of him, and Killian could smell the forest on her, the scent of freshly broken tree stems and the night air overwhelming him. “Have you been running?” He asked gently, reaching out for her and stopping her with a hand on her bare forearm that was covered in dried mud and debris.

“Yeah,” Emma said with a shake in her voice. She looked up at him finally, her eyes watery from the tears that were about to spill from her eyelids. There was a smudge of red across her cheek, probably where she had hit a branch while running, and her skin had opened up, but it had stopped bleeding and was already half healed.

“It didn’t help this time, did it?” Killian whispered sadly. Emma shook her head and the dam broke, her hot, wet tears streaming lines into her face as she cried. She didn’t know how he knew her so well, or why she felt so drawn to him as if they were connected by an invisible string, but her only thought was getting back to him, so when her run hadn’t cleared her mind, she had run straight to him with only his scent in the wind to guide her.

“I don’t even remember where I left my truck,” Emma sobbed and Killian pulled her into his arms, cradling the back of her head in his hand and running his fingers through the warmth of her golden locks. Emma crossed the threshold of his apartment and felt instant relief, his manly scent invading her senses as she buried her face into his chest and clutched onto his arm.

“I’ll help you find it tomorrow,” Killian promised, his hand caressing the small of her back. He walked them back into his apartment and pushed the door closed with a soft click. The apartment was dark, but Killian could navigate perfectly, so he guided them to the couch and encouraged Emma to sit. When he joined her, Emma threw herself into his arms once more, tucking her head under his chin and absorbing the warmth of his chest through the side of her face.

“I’m sorry again,” Emma sniffed, her fingers raking through his chest hair in front of her face.

“It’s alright, love, honestly,” Killian assured her, turning his head and pressing his lips to her forehead. Emma heaved a sob, and Killian clutched her tighter to his frame, wrapping his arms around her with a protective instinct he had only ever felt for his own mother. Emma meant more to him than he cared to admit, and he was sure he was willing to die for the she-wolf in his arms without question. “I’m not going to ask you why you were running, but just know you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Can you hide me forever?” Emma laughed weakly, blushing as soon as the words left her mouth.

“If that’s what you need, Emma.” Killian pulled back from their embrace, hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face so he was looking into her eyes. The usual spark behind her eyes was dulled and she looked tired, so tired, and his heart yearned to take away her conflict. Killian brushed his thumb over the crown of her cheek, drying away her tears with his touch, and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll give you forever. I promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

Emma awoke the next day with the smell of sweet pastry and freshly brewed coffee filling her nostrils. Before she had even opened her eyes she had begun to smile and figured she was probably dreaming again. There was a faint, muffled noise in the distant recess of her mind, but her brain was too occupied with converting the sugar scent of freshly baked goods and coffee into temptation. Her stomach rumbled a little as she rolled over into a patch of morning sunlight, the burnt orange glow instantly warming her face and making her pinch her eyes even more tightly closed.

Emma had never stayed the night at anyone’s house before. Ever. She knew she wasn’t in her bed, and the tiny particles of crust stopping her eyelids from parting as she tried to peel her eyes open, reminded her immediately of what had transpired last night. There was crying, and so much running, which had made for more crying when it hadn’t helped her relieve the stress of arguing with her father. 

Emma was tired of being expected to uphold a law she felt was long overdue for an update. Even a little would have been progress for Werewolf-kind, but her father was stubborn to a fault, just like her grandfather had been. When she was a cub, she had remembered how he’d always shunned her suggestions in the most gentle way so as not to upset her, but as an adult, she realised he was no different. Change had never been at the forefront of either Nolans’ minds, and they had both been terrified of it.

Emma smiled even harder to herself when she felt the bed dip beside her and heard the soft thud of a paper cup hit the wooden bedside table. The coffee smell grew stronger, and she inhaled audibly as she stretched out beside the body sitting next to her on the edge of the bed, the feel of his warm, soft lips pressing to her forehead. Finally, with a gently coaxing caress of her cheek by a warm hand, Emma peeled her eyes open and blinked the wolf of her dreams into view. Killian was smiling at her, his soft expression so natural and loving, she instantly blushed under his gaze and tried to hide her face in the palm of his hand.

“Good morning,” he whispered, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the apple of her cheek.

“Morning,” Emma mumbled into his hand, enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. She shifted a little, aware he was watching, and let his oversized shirt she was wearing slip off of her shoulder as she stretched with a yawn. “You got coffee,” Emma smirked appreciatively.

“I got you coffee,” Killian nodded and let his hand fall from her face and reach for the steaming cup beside the bed. “There is this little diner down the street, and they have the absolute best sweet pastries and coffee.”

Emma inhaled again, eager for the sweetness to coat the back of her tongue. “So I can smell.” She pushed herself into a sit, propping herself up against the huge, wooden headboard with a few pillows. Killian shuffled closer to her, revealing a brown paper bag, which was rolled down at the top, and handed it to her.

“The owner is Were,” Killian told her with a grin. “So, you know, I get the good stuff.” He winked and Emma laughed, hurriedly opening the bag and enjoying the way the still warm pastry smell filled her nostrils and made her salivate.

With a gasp, Emma’s eyes lit up and she lifted her head to look at him after inspecting the bag. “A still warm bear claw?” She asked, aghast.

“Aye,” Killian shrugged modestly, a grin plastered across his features.

“I didn’t know these actually existed,” Emma teased, reaching into the rustling bag and pulling out the treat. It was soft, covered in a sticky, nearly set icing, and the smell of freshly warmed almond overwhelmed her as she lifted it to her mouth. “Thank you,” she smiled sincerely. “Not just for the pastry. You are a good wolf.”

Killian looked away shyly, shuffling his boots on the hardwood floor beside the bed and wiggling his toes in his boots. Emma watched him with a smirk as she took a bite of the lukewarm doughnut, the warmth from the sun spilling through the window into Killian’s room creeping over the back of his neck and making him seem angelic. He was cute when he fidgeted, and Emma felt a swell of familiar longing as he reached behind his head and scratched at the skin on the back of his neck.

“I mean it,” Emma continued after swallowing a large gulp of coffee. “No one has ever been this kind to me before.”

Killian glanced up at her with a shy smirk, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “What I said last night,” he began, brushing his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I meant it, Emma.” He swallowed thickly, locking eyes with hers and promising her the world with one glance. “I _will_ give you forever.”

“Killian, I…” Emma started softly, moving to place the coffee and half-eaten pastry back on the table beside the bed. She crossed her legs under the covers, shuffling her body forward until her knees bumped into the side of his thigh. “...I have to tell you something.”

Killian offered her a reassuring smile. “Is it why you are running?” He cocked his head sideways, looking at her knowingly.

“How do you know me so well?” Emma laughed, hiding her face in her hands. Killian watched her hair tumble over her knees, the long, golden locks shimmering in the sunlight and the sound of her laughter filling his ears pleasingly. 

Killian could tell her he had dreamt of meeting her, but then she would want to know more details, and Killian wasn’t even sure he understood what his dream was trying to tell him. The one thing he was absolutely sure of was the fact it had led him to her, and how being with her felt like the most natural thing in the entire world. Emma was something else, something unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and they were fated to be together. “I just do,” he smiled boyishly.

Emma blew out a breath, steadying herself. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted quickly, hands idling and her fingers plucking at a tented piece of fabric beside her.

Killian lifted a leg, turning his body sideways, and rested his hand on her knee. The warmth of his hands on her was comforting and Emma felt her body relax under his touch. “It can’t be that bad,” Killian offered and Emma scoffed. “I’m sure I won’t like you any less,” he told her sweetly, stroking her knee through the dark blue sheet.

“My pack has arranged my marriage to a wolf I basically think of as a brother,” Emma blurted out.

“Oh,” Killian uttered. 

“I don’t want to marry him, obviously, but it’s non-negotiable in the eyes of the Alpha. I’m sure they have sent someone to follow me.” Emma stopped, her words tumbling from her mouth so quickly, she knew she was rambling. Killian’s lack of response made her look up at him for reassurance. “In fact, I’m sure of it. I can smell him in the wind every now and again.”

“Okay,” Killian nodded softly, observing her slightly panicked state.

“And then you let me in during the middle of the night, whilst I was bawling my eyes out with no explanation, and you didn’t even want sex last night…”

“Well, I am a gentleman,” Killian tried to slow her words, but was met with a continuation of her prolix outburst. 

“You are sweet and kind and you bought me coffee and a bear claw…” Emma sighed. “So I’m running...” she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest as he interrupted her with a firm squeeze of her knee, and for the first time, she heard him.

“Right into me,” Killian breathed, his words almost silent between them.

“Right into you,” Emma repeated his words. “And I’m carrying some hefty weight,” she told him with a sideways smile.

There was a pause, the room almost silent as Killian’s eyes searched over her face for anything else. Emma’s eyes roamed over his features with equal innocence, searching for any sign of trepidation in his brow, a narrowing of his eyes or a change in his demeanor. When she found nothing but the gentle curve of his lips as he smiled, she frowned, confused.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, her eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” Killian asked her out of the blue, his eyes lighting up a little as they flitted over her cotton-clad body. 

“Skinny dipping?” Emma almost squeaked. “Did you hear what I just said about the marriage thing?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded with a shrug. “So, have you?” He pressed, a wolfish grin on his face.

Emma shook her head in disbelief at his question. “I’m confused. I just told you I am to be married to another wolf and you want to know if I have ever been swimming naked?”

A low, manly chuckle escaped his throat. “I’d like to know about everything you’ve done naked,” he growled, running his tongue over the point of his canine teeth. “But let’s start with swimming.”

“Okay, no, I haven’t,” Emma conceded, a little annoyed. “My pack is old school. No room for a lot of human activities.” The Misthaven pack was full of tradition and sometimes being a wolf meant you had to sacrifice the fun of living like a human.

“Oh, then you are missing out,” Killian exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet, much to Emma’s dismay. She felt safer the closer he was, even if they were inside his apartment. “Come on,” Killian quipped, reaching out his hand and curling a finger, motioning for her to get up and follow him. 

“Are we not going to talk about my arranged marriage?” Emma huffed, throwing the covers back and swinging her smooth, naked legs over the edge of the bed. It didn’t escape her notice that Killian watched her with a predatory stare, his eyes darkening a little at the sight of her bare, pale flesh.

“Do you want to?” he asked her, tearing his eyes away from her sweet-smelling skin.

“Not really,” Emma shrugged, padding towards him.

“Excellent,” Killian grinned, reaching forward and grabbing her hand. “Neither do I.” He pulled her quickly, and she almost lost her balance, falling against the hard planes of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. Emma laughed, her worry fading away the instant she was in his embrace, Killian’s musk filling her nostrils and chasing away the remnants of coffee and sugar on her senses. All she could smell now was him, and it made her feel secure.

“Skinny dipping, huh?” Emma teased, pushing herself off his chest so she could look into his deep blue eyes. “You are full of surprises.”

Killian raised an eyebrow and shrugged a little. “If running doesn’t help, I swim,” he told her, brushing her bed-messed hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek in his palm. Emma’s eyes fluttered closed and she felt his forehead against hers, noses pressed side by side and lips almost touching. “I’d like to go swimming with you.”

“Naked?” Emma swallowed hard, her voice catching in her throat. She could barely think when he was so close to her. It was like the pull of the moon on the tides, influencing the way they moved, and it made Emma feel a welcomed kind of vulnerable. She didn’t know Killian that well, but she knew he would take care of her.

“I like to do all the fun, human activities naked,” Killian smirked, hooking a crooked finger under her chin and tilting her head backward. Emma’s eyes fell open and flickered between his and his lips, their mouths so close that when her tongue darted out to moisten them, ready for his kiss, she licked his lips a little.

“All of them?” Emma asked innocently, her bottom lip rolling under her teeth as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her hand flattened over his chest and his heartbeat pounded under her fingertips through the material of his shirt. To her annoyance, he was far more dressed than she was, and she pouted coyly.

“All of them,” Killian growled, pulling her face to his and seizing her lips in a fiery kiss.

By the time they made it to the lake, it was dusk. The sun was setting in the sky, slowly falling lower and lower towards the horizon which wiggled and shimmered against the ripple of the waves on the water. Emma had every intention of following him out of bed and out the door that morning, but Killian and his _‘fun human activities’_ had made it too difficult to get dressed. And now, as they hurriedly shed their clothes and tossed them into the back of his car with a giggle, Emma remembered why.

Killian naked was a sight to behold. He was perfectly formed of muscle and bone; the strength he held was not entirely visible with huge bulging muscles like most wolves she knew, but still there nonetheless. The way his skin moved over his bones, the muscles tensing along his calves, thighs and upper back as he walked made Emma lose her focus, totally forgetting she was also nude at the edge of a body of water where anyone could see her.

The lake was semi-secluded, at the end of an overgrown dirt track that only just accommodated the width of Killian’s car, and Emma’s nose twitched as she tried to find any remaining scent of recent human activity in the breeze. There was none, and the lingering smell of others was days old already.

“Come on,” Killian coaxed as he walked back towards the water, his total nakedness on display. He wore nothing but a smirk, unashamed of his nudity as he called out to her, “Last one in buys dinner!”

“Wait!” Emma shrieked, taking off down the shoreline towards him. Her toes dug into the soft, dark brown sandy soil at the water’s edge, and it felt oddly satisfying between her toes. She paused, stopping her chase and looking down at her feet, amazed.

“Amazing, right?” Killian’s voice shook her back to reality and she looked up at him standing before her. She wiggled her toes a little more, the soft but grainy texture between her toes making her feet sink a little.

“It’s…” Emma began, her brow furrowing as she tried to find the words. “...I never knew my human form could feel texture like my wolf form.”

“Wait until you get in the water.” Killian gave her a broad grin, taking her hand in his and giving her a gentle tug towards the water’s edge. Emma hesitated, digging her heels in and pulling back on his hand when she noticed the waves lapping at their ankles. Killian spun back to face her and cocked his head sideways, noticing her anxiety instantly. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve never been swimming as a human before,” Emma admitted with a blush. “I don’t know how.”

“Really? It’s easy,” Killian offered gently, turning to face her completely and catching her gaze that had been fixed on the movement of the water. He plucked her other hand from her side and rested them on his shoulders, placing his own hands on her bare hips and walking her towards him. “Just look at me,” he told her as he walked backward and held her gaze. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” Emma snapped, her nerves getting the better of her when the water level reached the back of her knees. The water was cold and it made her gasp, her fingernails digging into his shoulders and her body stiffening unexpectedly.

“Of course you’re not,” Killian agreed with a smile. “Why don’t you show me how much you are not afraid?” He went to pull away from her, the water at his waist now, but Emma clutched onto him even harder.

“Don’t let me go!” She squealed, the water climbing even higher as she lunged forward and tried to stay close to him.

“I won’t. I won’t,” Killian pledged softly, his words soothing her a little, but the chill of the lake tingled up her spine. Eventually the water was almost up to her breasts and Emma’s nipples hardened even more, her feet elevating her up on her tiptoes in order to keep them out of the cold, dark water. “I’ve got you.”

Killian let his knees bend under the surface, his upper body sinking below the waterline and Emma followed. All of the air left her lungs as her shoulders dipped under, and in an attempt to conserve what little body heat she had left, she pressed herself hard against Killian’s body. Emma began to shake, something that did not escape Killian’s attention, and he frowned as Emma’s face visibly paled.

“Are you cold?” He worried, holding her tighter and letting her bury her face in his chest as he stepped back into the deeper water. 

“I’m not scared,” Emma whispered to herself, her voice small and uncharacteristic. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves when her feet left the ground and her hands flew up to clutch his face desperately. She pulled her head back to look at him, his eyes searching hers quickly for the truth as his eyebrow bounced up his forehead knowingly. “Okay, I’m petrified.”

“Whatever for?” Killian half chuckled. “Water can’t hurt you,” he smiled at her warmly, holding her afloat in the water with a strong hand on each hip. Their bodies were so close that no water could fit between them and Killian could feel Emma’s heart thundering in her chest through her quaking. “Emma?” He coaxed gently, losing his smile and stroking wet knuckles over her cheek. “Talk to me, love.”

Emma couldn’t keep up the tough wolf act anymore. It was ridiculous, and she thought she would be okay, but as soon as the water had touched her feet, all of her worries and anxiety had flooded her entire body. What was worse, Killian, the wolf of her dreams who was currently holding her up had recognised it instantly. He knew something was wrong, and Emma didn’t know why, but the compulsion to tell him far outweighed her fear.

“Can we get out?” Emma pleaded weakly, her voice almost cracking, her body paralyzed. “Please.”

“Of course,” Killian agreed quickly, concern etched across his face. He quickly moved to tuck his arm under her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck and scooped her up into his arms effortlessly. Killian turned them around and headed back towards the shore, the weight of the water against his legs easing as they emerged from the dark blue lake. Emma buried her face in the crook of his neck, a wave of relief washing over her and an audible sigh leaving her mouth. 

“Thank you,” Emma breathed as he set her down on the sandy bank. He quickly grabbed the towels he had discarded nearby and wrapped one around her, ignoring the chill against his own skin as he knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Killian frowned, rubbing the towel over her shoulders. “I should be the one apologizing. You are clearly afraid of water…”

“I shouldn’t be,” Emma interrupted hastily, her words filled with self-directed anger. “It’s so stupid,” she growled at herself, clenching a fist around the towel, her jaw tensing.

“Do you want to tell me why?” Killian asked softly, dipping his head to catch her gaze and offering her a reassuring smile. Emma nodded and returned the gesture.

“When I was a cub, my family and I were running in the forest near our home when we came across the lake. We were all in wolf form, so my parents urged me into the water to learn how to doggy paddle.” Emma blushed a little when she noticed her recounting was causing Killian to smile. “It was fun, and you know, doggy paddling comes naturally to wolves.”

“Aye, it does,” Killian agreed, shifting his position so he was sitting next to her. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and pulled her against him as she continued.

“What doesn’t come naturally,” Emma continued, “Is swimming as a human when you shift unexpectedly and you’re out of your depth.”

“Ah,” Killian voiced with comprehension. “And you’ve been scared of water ever since?”

Emma nodded with a sigh. “This is the first time I’ve been in water that wasn’t in a bathtub since then.” Killian looked at her sweetly, the concern in his eyes replaced with comfort and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes narrowing as he smiled wider. “I was trying to impress you,” Emma laughed nervously, looking away from him and watching a droplet of water run down her leg.

“Really, love? Have you forgotten how we met?” Killian asked with a salacious laugh, cupping her cheek in his hand and turning her face to his once more. His thumb brushed over her cheek tenderly and Emma met his darkened stare. “I’ve been impressed with you this whole time.”

“Tell me more,” Emma smiled contently, her eyes flitting down to his slightly blue hued lips and back up to his eyes once more. Killian’s lips twitched sideways into a coy smile, his tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip and his breath catching in the back of his throat when Emma laid her hand on his thigh. Her fingertips were like ice on his skin and he shivered a little. “Or, you could show me?” Emma whispered, leaning forward a little more until her nose brushed his.

“Here?” Killian murmured with a raised brow and leaned his weight against her, tasting the slightly earthy hint of the lake on her lips as he kissed her. 

Emma lowered herself onto the sand, gripping onto his bicep that tensed under the strain of holding her steady with one hand and cupping his jaw with her other. She nodded against their kiss, his smile making hers grow even wider as she felt the cold, grainy texture of the shore against her naked back and the warmth of Killian pressing into her, his tongue pushing at the seam of her lips and begging for entry.

“Would it make you feel less anxious-,” Killian began deeply as he tore his lips from hers teasingly, chuckling when Emma tried to chase after his lips with a pout, “-if I helped you release some tension?” He slid his hand over the joint of her shoulder, down over the hill of her breast and continued his featherlight touches around the tight bud of her nipple. Emma’s breath hitched in her throat and her areola tightened instantly, the tingling in her nipples as they screamed for more of his attention making her whine.

Before she had time to respond with any sort of logical answer, Killian’s mouth was on her, his lips closing over her nipple and hungrily sucking it into his mouth. His tongue flicked over the nub as he gently held it between his teeth and made a content humming sound against Emma’s skin. Her skin was left ablaze as his fingers trailed over her skin, the digits like hot pokers on her flesh which had been cooled by the lake. Killian lifted his head a little, pulling her nipple in his teeth until Emma squeaked, and he let it bounce back against her chest with a pop.

“You taste like lake,” Killian laughed, the scruff on his chin rubbing at the valley between her breasts as he looked up at her over the mounds.

“Mentioning the lake isn’t helping me get over my fear,” Emma chided him coyly. She took his hand from where it rested lightly against her hip and pushed it lower between her legs, biting her bottom lip when his fingers brushed her clit.

“Oh,” Killian gasped excitedly, watching the pleasure drift over Emma’s face. “And this will?” he cooed, stroking a finger through her folds.

Emma nodded and rolled her bottom lip under her teeth, biting at the kiss-swollen flesh through her salacious smile as she watched him. Their eyes were locked, green into blue, both darkened with their desire as Killian quickly sucked on his finger and returned it to her aching nub. She tore her eyes from his, her eyelids fluttering closed and her thighs closing around his hand briefly before her legs relaxed and fell open once more with his gentle coaxing.

Emma wasn’t sure how they had ended up naked on a lakeside shore, but she wasn’t about to complain. Killian was so unhindered, not at all ashamed of his nakedness or the raging erection that was pressed against her outer thigh as he stroked between her legs. Emma’s heart raced, the sound of her blood coursing through her ears was all she could hear, the rushing sound only interrupted by her own mewling and the watery lapping of the lake against their toes.

“I want to make you come,” Killian whispered into her ear seductively, the gravel tone of his words making Emma shudder. His fingers slipped lower, collecting some of her arousal on his fingertips and then returning to her clit where he circled the hardened nub skillfully in deliberate moves. 

“Please…” Emma whined, her back arching off the sand. The throbbing between her legs was agony. “Make me come,” she pleaded, turning her head to face him.

Killian pressed a little harder on her clit, watching the way Emma’s body reacted to his touch. Her toes curled into the sand and her thighs began to quiver, her hips rutting forward to match his strokes as she made her own pleasurable rhythm against his digits. Emma moaned a wordless and breathy sigh, her arm circling around the back of his head and pulling his face to hers.

Killian’s lips were suddenly like lava on hers, searing a mark into the already plump flesh as he gobbled up her groans. His tongue slipped into her mouth, swiping over her own and mimicking the action of his fingers as he teased her entrance. “Will this make you come?” he teased, curling a single finger inside of Emma’s hot, wet core and stroking the ribbed surface of her g-spot.

“Yes…” she hissed, her fingers clutching the hair on the back of his head. 

Killian smirked, adding a second finger and repeating his actions. “And this?” His lips were almost touching Emma’s again, her parted maw dry from her panting.

“Fuck, yes,” she breathed, nodding at him with a locked gaze. Killian kept his eyes on hers, so close that the yellow flecks in her eyes looked like the stars in the night sky, and with two fingers stroking inside of her, he pressed his thumb to her engorged clit once more.

“How about this?” He smirked seductively, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Watching Emma writhe on the sand, helpless to his assault, was possibly one of the most erotic experiences of his life. Killian was by no means a virgin, but having sexual contact with Emma of any kind was like running into a star, her heat and intensity burning him up from the inside until he could hold out no longer. Human women could never compare.

“Oh, fuck, Killian…” Emma panted, her breaths becoming shallower and her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. “...Right there,” she squeaked, her legs shaking every time Killian swiped his thumb over her clit.

“Are you going to come for me, Emma?” He growled darkly, her helpless nod her only response. “Fuck, can you feel what you do to me?” He grunted, rutting himself against her leg, his own orgasm not far away. “I’m going to come just looking at you.”

“How about if you watch?” Emma sighed, sliding her hand down her body and batting his out of the way. She felt a loss instantly, but the burning coil in her gut was still there, never ebbing away as she replaced Killian’s hand with her own and began to furiously rub herself. “Touch yourself,” she commanded hoarsely, moving his hand between them to where his length was blazing its shape into her thigh.

Killian took himself in hand, his climax already so close, and tentatively began shifting the skin over his erection in quick, short strokes. His own breathing became laboured and his forehead began to bead with sweat as he rested it against Emma’s. His hand bumped her thigh with every stroke and his eyes fell to where she was flicking her clit, her soft moans of pleasure filling his ears and the scent of her arousal as it all but flowed from her almost too much.

“I’m going to come, Killian,” Emma gasped suddenly, her body stiffening beside him and her hand flying out to claw down his chest. Her nails raked through his chest hair, catching on the pendant he wore and she clutched the chain in her hands pulled his face to hers again. As soon as their lips collided, they came, Emma’s muscles pulling at nothing and fluttering deep inside of her whilst Killian emptied his seed over her stomach in jerky thrusts.

Their kiss slowed, Killian’s tongue slipping over Emma’s more languidly and their bodies relaxing a little against each other. Emma released her grip on Killian’s chain, letting their lips part with a coy smirk, a satisfied shiver washing over her as Killian’s eyes fluttered open again and she could see his hues had returned to the ocean blue they were before.

“Hey,” Emma smiled at him, flattening her palm to his cheek and brushing her thumb over the red tint on his face. He was so handsome in his post climax state that Emma couldn’t help but gaze upon him with a happy smile.

“Hey yourself,” Killian replied sweetly, mirroring her smile and nudging his face into her touch. He turned his head a little, kissing the palm of her hand with a lingering peck. “Do you feel better?” He smirked, casting his gaze down her flushed body to where he could still hear the blood throbbing between her legs.

“I do,” Emma nodded softly, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to wring out the last of her pleasure. “That was…”

“Breathtaking,” Killian interrupted her, snapping his head back up to meet her gaze. “You are incredible, Emma. I’ve never felt anything like this.” His words made her frown a little and Emma cocked her head to the side.

“Like what?” she pried innocently, a knot tightening in her stomach at his sudden sincerity.

Killian shook his head and shrugged his bare shoulders. “That’s just it,” he began with a tone of excitement that made her smile widen. “I can’t describe how you make me feel so alive. That night in the bar I was, yet again, at the end of a dead end search for my father and I was ready to give up.”

“Go on,” Emma prompted when she noticed he had nervously begun poking at the sand between them.

“It’s like I’m living a dream. Like we are somehow connected. I have had this recurring dream for as long as I can remember, and it’s been more frequent lately.” Killian took a breath, searching her eyes for any sign of apprehension, but when he found none, he continued. “You are there, Emma. I dream of you. I’ve dreamt of you since before we even met.”

Emma’s skin flushed and the hair at the base of her skull prickled to attention, her skin tightening and her throat turning dry. She was caught between panic and longing, her pack duty screaming at her heart that was calling out for her to follow its lead. There was no sign of deception in Killian’s eyes, and not a single ounce of doubt in her mind that he was more genuine than any wolf she had ever met. Being of the supernatural was every day for them, so was it so far fetched to believe their dreams were one and the same?

“Say something,” Killian whispered, shaking her from her thoughts. Just as Emma was about to answer, he interrupted her. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, Killian,” Emma halted his ranting by placing a hand on his forearm. “Tell me about your dream,” she smiled weakly at him. “Please.”

There were very few things in Emma’s life that gave her pause, but as Killian recalled his dream, the details in it exactly like those of hers, she couldn’t help but gasp. They couldn’t be having the same dream, could they? Emma’s mother had told her tales of fate, where two wolves connected by the moon had grown up and found each other, fell in love and lived happily ever after - or that was the short version. But they were just stories, weren’t they?

“And then you shift into your human form…” Killian almost finished, but Emma stopped his words with a single finger to his lips. Killian looked at her, confused, his brow knitted together on his face.

“And I say, _‘He’s gone.’_ ” Emma swallowed, lowering her hand from Killian’s now alabaster features. 

“It’s over,” they both said at the same time, shock plastered over both of their features.

“Alii dimidium Lunam,” Emma whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear Killian’s thundering just as fast beneath his ribcage, syncing with hers.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian said shyly. “My Latin is a little non-existent.”

“Alii dimidium Lunam,” Emma repeated firmly, shifting her position beside him so they were facing each other now. “It means ‘The Other Half of the Moon’. My mother told me fables of it when I was a pup, about two wolves fated to be together forever, connected by the phase of the moon under which they were born.”

Killian looked at her dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape. He let a nervous chuckle escape his lips. His entire life his mother had told him about how he was born at midnight under the first quarter phase of the moon, what humans called the half moon. “Emma, if you tell me you were born at midnight under the last quarter of the moon, I swear…”

“I was,” she said quickly, swallowing hard. “Killian, I was born at midnight under that exact phase!” She was gripping his arm so tightly, Killian thought she might break her nails through the skin of his forearm any second. 

“Emma, I…” he stammered, his entire world suddenly feeling whole, like it made much more sense. The biggest sense of relief washed over him in that second, the parts of his life as a werewolf that had long since been missing, crashing into him. It all made sense now. The way he felt around Emma, the way she coaxed out his inner wolf like no one ever had before, and the way he was lost to her each and every time they were together. Maybe the tales of old were true.

“I believe we were destined to find each other, Killian,” Emma nodded eagerly, clutching his face her in hands and locking their gazes once more. She beamed a huge smile, full of hope and finality that he hadn’t seen in her eyes before. “We are two halves of the same moon.”

Kissing her was all he could do. It was what felt natural in that exact moment, sparks shooting behind his eyelids as Killian let his lips glide over hers and let her know exactly how fervently he believed her words. There had never been anything in his life that gave him such soul clutching joy before, and he was never going to let Emma go, now that he had finally found his missing piece.

“Wait,” Emma mumbled against his lips, quickly pulling away from his kiss. Killian looked at her questioningly, his hands sliding over the soft skin of her arm with a warm caress. “The names on the graves, they are different. What does the dream mean?” Emma said sadly, her words full of ominous foreboding.

Killian looked at the sorrow in her eyes, the name of the tombstone clearly weighing heavy on her mind, as it was his. Hers said Nolan, and his said Jones - their family names, the names their fathers had given them. They would have to talk more about the details, about how each of their dreams was catered to their own subconscious, but for now, Killian had no answer for the wolf in his arms who looked at him so longingly.

“I’m not sure,” Killian told her honestly, pulling her into his embrace. He felt Emma snake her arms around his waist, balled fists clutching at his back and her face burying into the softness of his chest hair. Killian tucked her head under his chin, stroking the sand from her back with his fingertips. “But I promise you, we will find out.”


	10. Chapter 10

They talked for what seemed like hours about their dreams, each recalling the smallest details that might have seemed insignificant to anyone else. It was how they knew they were in the exact same dream world, experiencing the same reverie. From the softness of the grass under their feet to the smell of soon to be erupted flowers, the sounds of the forest and the chill of the midnight air, they were under no illusion their dreams were one and the same.

Emma was filled with conflict. On one hand, she was relieved to finally know that her dream meant something, and she was not just plagued by the nightmare of losing her father for no reason. But what was the reason? The only differing detail in both of their visions was the name on the grave, so they had deduced it had to mean something, only they had no idea what it was trying to show them. Killian assured her time and time again it didn’t necessarily mean her father was fated to die, but the fact that Killian couldn’t locate his own father alive meant he didn’t exactly believe his own assurances.

To take their mind off things, Killian had suggested taking Emma to dinner. They were in a part of town she would not be recognized and so, without hesitation, Emma had agreed. He picked a casual Italian place, and when he had entered with her arm looped through his, the owner had almost danced with glee to see one of his favourite patrons finally dining with another. Emma gave him a nervous smile and they were seated opposite each other in a private little booth away from prying eyes, but the minute they sat down she was invaded with Graham’s scent.

“Are you alright?” Killian asked her gently, reaching across the table to grasp her hand with his when he noticed she was busy scanning the restaurant. For what, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary, casually inhaling to try and find the scent she could quite clearly smell. “You seem distracted.”

Emma frowned a little. “I can smell someone from my pack here,” she almost whispered, eyes still scanning over the other diners, but unable to find what she sought.

“Can you see anyone?” Killian asked her quickly, trying not to draw any attention as he fidgeted with his napkin.

“No,” Emma shook her head a little, disguising the action by pretending to flick her lightly curled golden locks over her shoulder. “I can’t see him.”

“Is it Graham?” Killian offered casually, opening the menu with his free hand and pretending to browse the selection.

Finally, Emma looked at him and gave a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Are you jealous, Jones?” she teased, relaxing a little. The scent was old, a few days at least, and it was possible that, with all of her recent stress, Emma was confusing what she could smell with what she had smelled recently. It was a mixture of musk and human aftershave that could have been worn by a thousand other human men, not just Graham, so when she couldn’t visually locate the Misthaven beta, she figured she was being paranoid.

“Of course,” Killian winked at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to worry about Graham, trust me,” Emma said firmly, scooting to the edge of her bench seat and wrapping her other hand around his. “He would be the last wolf I’d want.” Emma’s words left her mouth with a little more disgust than she had intended for her pseudo-sibling, and Killian noticed.

“He’s your betrothed, isn’t he?” Killian asked with a soft tone, the pain evident in his words. Emma held his gaze and swallowed slowly.

“Yes.” There was no point in hiding it any longer. Killian knew about everything anyway, so why not divulge the name of who her pack wanted her to marry. “And he is also the beta in my pack, so me running away is a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian nodded in understanding. “The chance of you being able to smell him is more than an unlikely coincidence then?”

“I’m afraid so,” Emma agreed. “He’ll find me eventually.”

Killian sat back in the booth, pulling his hand from hers and lightly scratching over the stubble on his jaw. Emma could see him thinking, almost hear his thought processes as he looked around the restaurant. He ate here frequently and nothing seemed out of the ordinary for this time of the week - no new patrons, no new smells - but clearly something had Emma spooked, and he would not abide that.

Killian had waited his whole life to belong, to feel like he was accepted. Emma gave him that. She gave him a sense of humanity, as well as accepted him for the wolf he was. He was not much by werewolf standards, smaller than the average wolf and with no pack or status to offer her, but he was sure, without a doubt, that he would fight with everything he had for her.

He would fight to the death if necessary.

“Then let him come,” Killian nodded with a tight smile. He sat forward and claimed her hands in his once more, his fingers tangling with hers and interlocking their hands tightly. “I’ll fight for you, Emma. I promised you forever, and if it means a little bloodshed to get there, then-”

“I don’t want that,” Emma interjected quickly, clutching his hand tighter.

“Neither do I,” Killian admitted honestly. “But I will fight for you, Emma. I will fight with everything I have to keep you safe.” 

“Graham would never hurt me,” Emma said slowly, her gaze locked with Killian’s across the table. As acute as their hearing was, neither of them heard a single voice or sound in the restaurant in that moment except for the thrumming of each other’s blood. Emma flushed hot, a nervous human reaction to what they were both thinking.

“But what of me?” Killian laughed nervously, vocalising both of their fears. He didn’t know much about pack politics, but he knew enough that if Emma was to be married to another, and they wanted her back at all costs, then killing him or any other wolf in their way was nothing. Emma’s silence confirmed he was right.

The owner of the restaurant, Tony, chose that exact moment to appear, dogeared notepad in hand and a half length pencil tucked behind his ear. Killian stood to greet him, shaking the man’s hand vigorously and then introducing Emma as his date, the slight blush that crept over his cheeks at his admission not going unnoticed. Emma blushed as well, a very human reaction she had rarely experienced before because of the way it revealed too much to a foe.

After some pleasantries, they ordered one of the restaurant’s speciality dishes; a huge plate of spaghetti and homemade meatballs gently tossed into a basil infused ragu. Emma had never tried meatballs before but after Killian’s insistence, she was in love. The meatballs melted in her mouth, the taste of herbs and cooked meat so exotic and peppery on her tongue, she couldn’t help but moan after every mouthful, much to Killian’s amusement.

Emma was an eclectic mix of someone who had seen everything the world had to offer and yet had experienced nothing at the same time. Killian loved the way simple things seemed to excite her beyond belief, like she had learned everything she knew from books alone, without ever setting foot outside. She had mentioned her pack were old school before, but Killian couldn’t stop his smile each time she became giddy over such trivial things.

After the restaurant, they were strolling down the nearly empty sidewalk when Emma spotted a poster for a local fair. It came to town every year, and Killian had gone before, but never with anyone. He used to go with his brother as a way for both of them to remember their mother, who loved to go to such things, but he never had the opportunity to take someone else. Emma’s enthusiasm upon learning what a fair actually was, prompted her begging, almost whining, for him to show her as she excitedly tapped the ripped poster upon the rough brick wall.

The fair was close to his home and after they had driven back to his place, Killian suggested they walk there to enjoy the night air. It was crisp and cool, but the lingering smell of the pastries from the nearby diner had Emma’s smile growing even wider as they strolled to their destination. Like a kid at Christmas, Emma almost ran through the barriers as Killian paid for two tickets, watching her enjoyment and feeling the swell of his heart at how happy she was.

There was no way that Emma would have ever been allowed to go to a fair if she had been with anyone from her pack. This would have been on the forbidden list of human activities. The Chronicle was clear, as her father constantly reminded her, that any human activity deemed frivolous or that dulled the responses was not allowed. Apparently, fun was at the top of that list, because Emma had never had so much.

Her arms were overloaded with soft toys, and the taste of cotton candy still lingered on her tongue as they called it a night. Spun sugar had made her fingers sticky, but she didn’t mind at all, and even eating a corndog was new. Emma felt human for a second and loved each and every time Killian used his supernatural abilities to his advantage, winning her everything that she requested. There was no weakness in what she felt, only love and compassion for the wolf at her side, and not for the first time, Emma began to question the laws by which she had been raised. Nothing was off limits for her, Killian had made that clear, and as they ducked through the trees, taking a shortcut back to his apartment, Emma stopped him suddenly by grabbing his hand.

“Thank you,” Emma smiled sweetly, tugging his arm gently until he turned to look at her.

“For what?” Killian frowned, shaking his head a little from side to side as he stepped into her space. His chest bumped into the pile of bears in her arms, the soft furs brushing his arms as he rubbed a hand over her shoulders.

“Everything,” Emma smiled at him, leaning into his body. 

“I just took you to the fair,” Killian blushed modestly, reaching behind his ear to scratch there nervously. “It was no trouble.”

“No,” Emma said definitely, tossing the soft toys to the ground beside them. One squeaked as it hit the ground and Killian’s ears perked up a little at the sound, but he kept his gaze trained on her. “You’ve done so much more.”

“It was nothing, lass,” Killian smiled. He trailed his hand down her arms, clutching her fingers between his, lifting their hands and interlocking their digits lovingly. Emma tightened her grip and pulled him even closer to her, their bodies crashing together and their noses almost bumping in the darkness. Even though it was nearly a full moon, the canopy of trees overhead afforded them some privacy from the silvery glow.

“It’s everything,” Emma breathed, her eyes flicking between Killian’s and his lips, visible in the darkness because of their ability to see in low lights. Killian swallowed and his mouth twitched, the corners tugging into a small smile. He licked them quickly, leaning forward to offer her a kiss, but Emma pulled away and he frowned, confused. 

Emma stepped back, untangling their hands, and in one swift motion, she lifted her shirt up and over her head. Killian felt a different kind of energy surge through him, more than just arousal as Emma undressed, a collection of feelings that set his nerve endings on fire and made panic set into his bones. 

“Emma, what are you doing?” he asked nervously, fully aware of the only reason werewolves took off their clothes in the woods. He knew enough about werewolf lore to know that if they were discovered right now, he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of any punishment.

“I want you to see me,” Emma told him softly, tossing the last remnants of her clothing aside and standing in front of him gloriously nude. Her nipples peaked in the night air, pebbling into hard nubs atop the fleshy mounds of her breasts and causing his loins to stir. 

“I can’t,” Killian turned away, clenching his jaw tightly and exhaling hard into his hand that covered his mouth. He hadn’t realised what Emma meant until that second - her shift. “It’s...I can’t let you. If anyone finds out-”

Emma snorted a laugh through her nose and walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder and encouraging him to turn and face her once more. “They won’t,” she offered lightly. “Killian, I want to show you this part of me.”

“Emma,” he ground out through clenched teeth, pinching his eyes closed almost painfully. He could smell her change coming, could sense the shift of bones and muscle about to happen, the electricity flowing through her hand and into his, like an open current. 

Their connection was something special, almost like twins in nature, where Killian could feel everything about Emma’s change at the same time she could, but what was even more unnerving was the way he was desperately attempting to halt his own change at the same time. Killian’s inner wolf howled to be free, clawing at his insides, yearning to join his soul mate in their true, free form.

“It’s okay,” Emma soothed, running her hand over the sweat of his brow, calming him instantly. Killian exhaled hard, eyes tightly closed, and his face twisted with a mixture of pain and the resistance to join her. Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek only briefly before stepping back and letting their hands fall apart. “I want this,” she murmured, offering him a smile he couldn’t see as her shift ravaged her body.

When Killian opened his eyes, he was not met with the usual hazel green hues of Emma that he could get lost in for hours, but was staring out into the darkness of the forest. A soft whine alerted him, and he looked down, the dirt lightly disturbed by the huge grey and red she-wolf sitting at his feet. Even as a wolf Emma was beautiful, and Killian’s breath was taken from him, the softness behind her almond shaped eyes warming his heart.

“Emma, you could get into real trouble. You shouldn’t have done this,” Killian admonished weakly, finally relenting to her will. 

Emma cocked her head to the side, her maw slightly ajar, halting its panting, and her ears pricked on her head. She watched him intently like a dog focused on a ball about to be thrown, and when Killian reached for the buttons of his shirt, she jumped back to her feet, her tail curled over her back where it began brushing her spine in a slowly increasing rhythm.

“Forever, right?” Killian arched a brow at her, finally pulling the edges of the shirt open and pulling his arms free. He tossed the material her way, smirking when she hopped out of the way with a playfully growl. “Just so you know, and I’m only saying this because I know you can’t argue back right now, you are buying breakfast,” Killian teased, pulling his belt open and feeling the ease in his muscles as his body surrendered to the beginning of his change.

Emma’s muzzle hung open once more, her happy dog smile lighting up her eyes when she realised he was about to change. When Killian was fully naked in front of her, his clothes a discarded mess of jeans and leather boots, Emma gave him one final whimper of encouragement before tearing off into the night, her feet skidding against the dried leaves under her paws as she swerved to avoid his legs.

“Wait!” Killian called out after her, twisting his body to watch her go. The sound of breaking branches echoed from the tree line, growing more and more distant, the sound indistinguishable from the creaking of his bones. Killian let out a cry and fell to his knees, falling forward onto his hands and clawing at the ground with a grunt. It was not advisable to fight one's change, he had always been told not to, and now the pain tearing through his body was a testament to why. “One of these days, I’ll stop chasing after this she-wolf,” he growled to himself, the syllables of his last words stretching out and turning into a full blown howl when his transformation was complete.

Emma stopped running as soon as she heard the howl, a quick exhale leaving remnants of condensation in the air in front of her nose and she spun on her heels to face the direction she had cantered from. The leather pad twitched at the end of her muzzle, desperate to find the scent of Killian in the non-existent breeze, the still of the forest offering him the perfect camouflage and the absence of wind the perfect opportunity to stalk her. Emma’s canine heart pounded thrice as fast in her chest, eyes flitting around the trees to try and guess the direction he would appear from.

She was tense, no doubt about it. Suddenly she was the prey, a feeling she had never experienced before, and the hackles on the back of her neck sprang to attention. Her ears swiveled on her head, twisting this way and that, trying to find a single indication of Killian’s presence nearby. Again she tilted her head back, inhaling hard into the night, but was met with nothing but the approaching rain and the damp, forest floor.

She froze, holding her breath, her eyes wide in an attempt to let in as much of the little light that was in the forest that night. She saw nothing, her paws flexing in the detritus in anticipation of running, her tail hanging low between her legs. She was deflated. She thought Killian would follow her, she thought he would be at her side and for a second, she missed his contact, whining into the night.

A twig snapped behind her and Emma turned instantly, staring intently into the bushes behind her. Every hair on her body stood on end and she couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her blood. The shape of her ears funneled in the noises of the night, but it wasn’t until she saw the glow of blue between the dark green leaves that she shifted her weight backward and her tail began to wag. It brushed her hocks, and she stamped her paws forward in a playful bow gesture, enticing the blue eyed shadow out of his hiding place to join her.

Killian emerged slowly, the bushes snagging against his fur, his ears flattened to the top of his broad wolf skull as he pushed his muzzle through the prickly branches. Emma made a high pitched yelp, spinning on the spot in excitement of his arrival, glad to finally see him. He approached her cautiously, fur puffed out and ears erect on his head, his bush-like tail laying over his back in a tight curl. Emma halted her spin, meeting him with a puppy like submission, licking at his maw and pawing at his face in eagerness, loving his masculine demeanor as he let her.

There seemed to be a switch in roles; Killian suddenly became protective and dominant over her. Maybe it was their connection, maybe it was something else, but Emma felt helpless against him and rolled onto her back at his paws, tail tucked between her legs where it swiped to and fro over her hairless belly. Killian sniffed at her, avoiding her pawing with a dodge each time she tried to press her foot to his muzzle, until Emma suddenly slipped out from under him and sprang to her feet once more. Killian flinched back, slightly confused by her sudden innocent nature, but he didn’t have time to react before Emma turned and high tailed it back through the trees in the direction she had come from.

Killian took off after her, a low growl tumbling from his throat as he pounded the earth, newly formed branches snapping under the weight of his body as he forced his bulk through the narrow brush. A squeak tore through the forest, close by he could tell, and with a wolfish grin he increased his speed towards their discarded clothes. When he burst through the tree line Emma was waiting, her tail flying from left to right and her head shaking from side to side. In her mouth, she had one of the toys he had won her from the fair, the squeak inside of its soft, filled belly igniting the playfulness inside of her as if she were a puppy.

Emma closed her jaws around the toy, again and again, the high pitched squeaker piercing his eardrums everytime she chewed on it and growled at the toy in response. Killian inched forward, his own tail wagging furiously as he attempted to nip at the toy in her jaws, carefully teasing the leg of the fluffy, blue bear away from her muzzle with a gentle pull. Emma growled but there was no malice behind her tone, pulling the toy away from his reach just enough that he attempted to acquire it once more.

It was a game, a silly game that only domesticated dogs played, but somehow, under the cover of darkness, two fully grown werewolves had entered into a game of tug-o-war with a soft toy neither of them really wanted. It wasn’t about the toy, it was about having fun, Killian’s final acceptance to embrace his wolfish nature for more than just running to relieve stress. Emma wanted him to be free, hold onto his true nature and stop fighting what they both already knew.

Two halves of the same moon may never meet, but they will always fit together perfectly to make a whole.

Whilst Emma was distracted by the hoot of an owl, Killian managed to grab the toy, the squeaker shrieking under protest but soon fizzling away as his powerful canine popped the thin, plastic shell. Emma pulled, the muscles in her neck tensing under the strain, but Killian did not let go, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he declared to her that the toy was his. Emma growled back, her feet digging into the leaf littered floor as she pulled back, her equal size and impressive strength moving him with her.

Killian pulled even harder, moving around her in an attempt to twist it from her jaws, but Emma would not yield, her head turning unnaturally and her body soon following to straighten up. They were at an impasse for a few seconds, blue eyes staring into green, grunts of exertion through half muffled noses filling the air between them before, with one last tug, Emma managed to tear the toy in two, and paraded around with the head of the bear between her teeth.

Killian sat and dropped his half, white stuffing fibers stuck to his tongue. He shook his head, twitching it to the side as his tongue rolled in waves to eject the offending material from his mouth, his eyes trained on Emma who had stopped to mock him with a wolfish grin. She had dropped the decapitated head of the bear and was pacing towards him determinedly, and if Killian didn’t know better he would say she was swaying her hips in an attempt to seduce him.

When she reached him, her nose touching his and pushing against his face, he reared up onto his back legs like a begging dog and lost his balance, falling back against the tree behind him with a low groan. He shook it off, slouched against the rough bark when an all too human cry of anguish filled his ears, and he looked forward again to see Emma mid shift.

Killian was too late to look away; he had seen too much. Paws became hands, fingers long and delicate and Emma’s tail disappeared to reveal the soft, white curve of her behind. She cried out again and Killian felt a pull, as if an invisible thread had been tugged on and when she sank to the ground on all fours as human once more, Killian felt his own body change. 

There was no pain with his shift, only amazement, and awe at the woman in front of him who had made sure he would watch her this time. Emma had made sure he could see, made sure he was distracted enough with their frivolous game that he would never see it coming until it was too late, and he was gazing upon the most intimate parts of her. And there was no taking it back now, the gnarled bark on the tree digging into his human spine going unnoticed as Emma looked over to him with a smirk.

“Forever,” she said softly, reiterating his earlier words before she sank to the forest floor exhausted.

\--

The morning was cool, a light covering of fog hanging in the air, slowly disappearing as the morning sun grew hotter, evaporating it from existence. Emma walked along the sidewalk with a definite spring in her step, her newly acquired hoodie hanging off of one shoulder and her hair tied into a loose ponytail to the side. She was sure Killian wouldn’t mind her borrowing a few clothes, especially seeing as by the time he stirred, she would have returned with an aforementioned breakfast.

There were few people around at this time of the morning. Emma had always been an early riser, unless especially exhausted, and she had discovered a new found affinity for people watching. Humans were fascinating, barely awake themselves, and yet able to function from muscle memory alone as they made their way to their places of work under the thrall of tiredness. It felt good to be amongst them, like one of them, blending into a society that knew no more than she would allow - something Emma had never been afforded as a Misthaven wolf before.

The Chronicle was abundantly clear when it came to affairs of humanity. To protect all werewolf kind, living with or near humans was discouraged, lest their true identity become a revelation. There had never been a werewolf revealed to humanity, not in Emma’s entire bloodline, but it was the fear of discovery that kept many of the werewolves in her community petrified of even gazing upon a human. They were nothing to wolves, and as insignificant as the insects that inhabited the world.

If wolves never bothered humans, humans would never know.

Emma rounded the final corner on her way to the diner Killian had told her about, the scent of the freshly raised sweet pastry dough filling her nostrils. Killian had given her very quick instructions, but Emma was sure she could have still followed her nose and would have had no problem finding the place. The entire block was filled with a sweet smelling sugary aroma that was so enticing she didn’t notice the musky scent of another wolf until it was too late.

Two huge hands grabbed her, pulling her sideways into an alleyway that was darkened by shadows and a dead-end brick wall. One hand held her still, pinning her to the wall whilst the other clamped over her mouth to stop her from calling out. Emma’s back hit the rough brickwork with a thud, the air leaving her lungs on a squeal into the wolves hand that smelled salty and weathered against her face, her eyes pinched closed as she waited for an attack that never came.

“Shh, Emma, it’s me,” the wolf whispered, his body leaning into hers as he cast a quick glance to the sidewalk in case anyone had noticed him grab her. Emma recognised the voice instantly, the dulcet Irish twinge behind his words easily distinguishable from any accent she had ever heard. She peeled her eyes open and shook his hand from her face, huffing a little as she pushed against his weight.

“Graham,” Emma spat, her anger immediately evident. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you found me,” she groaned, straightening up the oversized hoodie she was wearing.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Graham assured her softly, taking a step back. “Or Killian,” he added nervously. Emma’s eyes widened and the hues darkened a little with her rage.

“How do you…” she began suspiciously, but Graham stopped her.

“I’ve been following you all week,” he admitted. “Your father sent me to bring you home.”

“I’m not going home,” Emma said defiantly, shifting her weight onto one hip and crossing her arms over her chest. “You can tell my father that. And stay away from Killian, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Emma, this is serious,” Graham pleaded. “Your father gave me strict instructions to bring you home and to kill the wolf you were cavorting with.” Emma stared at him for a second, the muscle in her jaw twitching and her lip curling into a snarl. “He is very angry.”

“Of course he is,” Emma snarled, whipping her hair over her shoulder. In the tussle, it had come loose and was now a knotty mess of unbrushed blonde tendrils covering her shoulders. “His little _princess_ has her own mind and he doesn’t like it, but Killian doesn’t even know who I am, so leave him out of this.”

“Emma, please,” Graham implored, rolling his eyes. Emma was stubborn, just like her mother, and sometimes he was irritated by her younger sibling act as much as she was annoyed by the way he acted like her big brother. “I’m not trying to argue here…”

“Good. Conversation over,” Emma snapped, heading back towards the entrance to the alleyway.

“Wait!” Graham lunged out and grabbed her elbow, quickly pulling her to a halt. “This isn’t about you,” he quipped angrily, grinding his teeth together. “God, you are still so…”

“Don’t say it,” Emma warned him, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. He used to call her selfish all the time as pups because Emma was raised with a sense of entitlement that she hadn’t realised was unbecoming until her wolf day, and Graham had never let her forget how much of a princess she had acted. She hated him for it, because even though they had matured, he had never outgrown his jibe. “I can kick your ass now. I’m not a little pup anymore. You can’t bully me and you most certainly cannot convince me to return to Misthaven.” 

When they were pups, Graham had taken it upon himself to torment Emma with his larger than average size and strength, defeating her in every game they played. It didn’t help that David regularly pitted them against each other in practice bouts until Emma finally worked out how to outsmart him, using her cunning skills to defeat him, despite his size. In a way, it had made her an impressive fighter, but it was at the cost of her ego that Graham had relentlessly crushed each and every time she was beat.

“Just listen to me, will you?” Graham snapped, clenching his fist in frustration. “Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?”

Emma studied his expression, the fatigue etched across his features. Dark grey half circles sat under each of his eyes, the crows feet at their corners making him look much older than she knew he was. Tiny white hairs had sprouted from his browline and peppered his sideburns, the rugged growth on his chin unkempt and messier than usual. It had been a while since Emma had simply looked upon the wolf she loved as a brother, but something was clearly weighing heavy on his mind and manifesting itself in his weary appearance.

She relaxed a little, letting out a heavy sigh when he looked at her with pleading eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Good,” Graham exhaled with relief. “I need your help.”

\--

The diner was surprisingly crowded for the early hours, and Emma suspected it was because of the delectable pastries. There was a long queue, so Graham had offered to grab them coffees and breakfast whilst Emma took a seat. She had calmed down somewhat after realising Graham wasn’t here to exact her father's orders, and when he had asked for her help, she was a little concerned.

Graham was a beta. He didn’t need help, and she was sure the last person he would need it from was her. She was nobody, not yet, not until they were married. If they were married, which if Emma had anything to say about it, would be never. Her connection with Killian was so intrinsic, she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else, and if that meant she had to die to fight for her freedom to marry for love, she would.

The clatter of plates made her jump suddenly, and everyone in the diner looked to the bar area where a waitress had dropped a whole stack. As she hurried off, red faced and embarrassed beyond comprehension, Emma noted the other seated diners as they resumed their activities. There were four other people in the diner that morning, eating in - two men and two women - and Emma made a mental note of them and their physical attributes just in case there was any trouble.

Two of the men were dining together, suited and booted and both chatting into an earpiece whilst ignoring their company. There was a blonde haired woman typing away on a laptop, huffing at herself as she slammed her finger down on the delete key time and time again. The other woman was seated at the back of the restaurant, with long, dark hair and a pale complexion, unable to hide the glow emanating from her skin. She was smiling to herself, reading a thick paged magazine that lay out before her, and Emma noticed the faintest hint of increased hormones in her scent. If she didn’t already know, the woman was pregnant, but maybe that’s why she was smiling so broadly.

“I got you one of those disgustingly sweet pastries you like so much,” Graham announced, interrupting her from people-watching. He placed the small round white plate in front of her, the still warm bear claw almost making her drool.

“Thank you,” Emma said with a tight lipped smile, taking the mug of steaming coffee out of his hands so he could sit opposite her at the small square table. The whole restaurant looked more like somebody's house, the casual placement of a few well worn couches and a bookshelf near a disused open fire making it seem more homely.

Graham fidgeted in his seat, tugging at his shirt like it had twisted out of place, and shuffling his chair under the table even more. Emma watched him with a narrowed gaze, confused by his actions that were decidedly more human. “Are you okay?” She asked gently. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?” Graham asked nervously, his voice an octave higher than before.

“Yes,” Emma affirmed calmly. “Very weird.”

Graham cleared his throat, finally content with the position he had found most comfortable, and he covered his face with both of his hands. It was like he was trying to find the courage she knew he already had to tell her something, so she knew it had to be serious. Graham was nervous, but she could smell something other than fear on him - she just didn’t know what it was.

“You said you needed my help,” Emma prompted, trying to break the tension between them. She reached for the small bowl of sugar cubes in the center of the table and grabbed one, letting it fall into the blackness of her coffee with a plop.

“Yes,” Graham agreed with a nod before pausing. His short answer confused Emma, and she gave him a twisted look.

“Graham, will you quit acting so human and just tell me what’s going on?” Emma told him firmly. “I’ve never seen you so rattled,” she noted, lifting her mug to her lips and taking a sip of the acrid liquid inside. She winced at the taste, returning the porcelain to the table and reaching for a creamer in a second ramekin. She didn’t normally take cream, but the coffee was a little too strong without its sweetness.

“Okay,” Graham blurted, shuffling forward even more and leaning forward on his elbows. He beckoned her nearer with a crooked finger and Emma leaned towards him. “I can’t marry you,” Graham stated obviously and Emma fell back against her chair with a huff.

“I could have told you that,” she sighed.

“No,” Graham shook his head quickly. “I mean, I’m engaged to another.”

Emma’s bottom jaw dropped open and she almost knocked her coffee from the table, scandalized by his confession. “Who?” She demanded curtly, and before he even had time to respond, she gasped loudly with realisation. “My father doesn’t know, does he?”

Graham looked at her with a darkened stare. “You think I would still be alive if he did?”

Emma gave him a knowing look. “So, who is it?” Emma demanded a second time, swiping her mug up and taking another gulp of coffee. “Which pack?” She smacked her lips together, wiping them with the back of her hand.

“She doesn't belong to any pack,” Graham shrugged, casting a sideways glance to a man who brushed past them a bit closer than he would have liked. Emma matched his shrug and arched her back against the chair, the wooden legs creaking a little.

“A loner?” Emma asked nonchalantly. “I get that appeal,” she smirked, recalling the small smile on Killian’s face as he had slumbered beside her the night before.

Loners were pureblood wolves who had no pack and were usually ignored by others. They were often without a pack because of upheaval or conflict that had meant the end of any community they had known. Being a loner was a choice, not a punishment, and as such, they were permitted to interact with other purebloods freely. The Chronicle was indifferent to lone wolves, and in more recent times it had become acceptable that they join an established pack through marriage. The only aspect of interaction frowned upon was illegitimate children, which would result in exile for both parents.

Graham lowered his head and looked up at her sheepishly. “Not exactly. She’s human.”

Emma kicked the underside of the table as she jumped, half in shock and half in disbelief. She ignored the pain throbbing through her knee, eyes fixed on Graham’s for any sign that he was joking. He had to be. The beta of Misthaven was a force, one of the strongest wolves she knew. He was honest, dedicated and loyal to his pack and werewolf lore. He was not engaged to a human, was he?

“I don’t know what to say,” Emma swallowed, her face pale with shock. “I mean...” she stuttered, exhaling hard, her brow furrowing with thought. 

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Graham whispered across the table when a few of the people in the nearby queue turned to look at what had caused the echoing bang of bone against wood.

“How long?” Emma asked eagerly. “How long have you...you know?” She made a weird gesture with her hands, not entirely sure what it was herself. There were no anatomical differences between wolves in human form and humans, so Emma attributed her odd behaviour to shock. Yeah, that was it. She was still in shock. Graham quirked an eyebrow.

“Going on three years.” He hadn't even finished his sentence before he winced in anticipation of Emma’s reaction.

“THREE!” She almost yelled and the entire diner paused and looked in her direction. Graham grabbed her arm, holding her down when she attempted to leap to her feet, a strange child-like chuckle escaping her lips at this new found information. “How? I mean, bravo for pulling it off,” she laughed, grinning broadly. “Really, I had no idea, and you’re still breathing so obviously my father doesn’t either…”

“And he never can,” Graham interrupted her rant, gripping her arm tighter and catching her gaze. His face was stoney, a real sense of panic plastered across his features that sobered Emma instantly. She calmed, her smile fading.

“There is more isn’t there?” Emma asked him coolly. 

Graham released her arm, sitting back in the chair that groaned under his hefty weight. He licked his lips nervously, running a hand through his hair slowly as if he were signaling someone with a secret gesture. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma watched as the lady with long, dark brown hair got to her feet, a very visible bump on display now that she was on her feet. She gathered up her things, tucking the magazine into her satchel and pushing her chair back under the table. The sound of wood on wood vibrated through the diner and Graham turned red, his face blushing and the scent of his sweat invading Emma’s nostrils. He didn’t say anything else, and Emma simply watched him squirm with a confused expression.

That was until the pregnant lady appeared at his side, bag slung loosely over one shoulder and gripped by one hand, drawing Emma’s attention. She watched in fascination as the woman’s other hand snaked its way over Graham’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her slender figure. He planted his hand firmly on the outside of her heavily pregnant belly, fingers splayed protectively over the unborn child, as he looked back to meet Emma’s wide eyes.

“Emma, this is Ruby,” he murmured, the pregnant brunette placing her hand over his on her stomach.

“Hi,” Ruby smiled brightly, which confused Emma even more. Did she know what she was? “Nice to finally meet you.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Three years ago_

Many people in the world would enjoy their free time with some socialization, or some other kind of fun. Werewolves were different, creatures that wanted nothing but the feel of soft, freshly churned earth beneath their paws and the smell of the night in their nostrils. Graham was no different. He had been the Misthaven beta for as long as he could fight, standing shoulder to shoulder with David and making sure the entire pack was safe.

Tonight, however, was a rare occasion when David had suggested he go and right what ailed him, as he was no good to him as a beta when he was so clearly distracted. Graham had become irritated recently, in need of something to help him relax, and David all but forced him to take a leave of absence to right the worries in his head. Graham wasn’t sure he could relax and stay away from his pack for so long, but he was also loyal to his alpha. If David insisted, he would go.

Graham wasn’t sure what he was in need of. He had reached a certain age, thirty-four in human years, and if he were a human, he could have said he was heading into a mid-life crisis. He craved what he couldn’t have, plagued by a yearning he couldn’t place and it was made all the more poignant when he was around David and Snow. He was coming up to a milestone in werewolf culture and he should have been so many things by now.

He had no reason to begrudge the Nolans for anything. They had taken him in when he was lost, raised him as their own when they really didn’t have to and gave him a place to call home. Misthaven was his home. It was where he belonged, with the strongest pack of them all, and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else that could fulfill his aching heart. 

Graham Humbert was lonely. He was a wolf with everything and yet had nothing that made him feel whole.

There were plenty of potential mates, and as the beta, he could have the pick of any she-wolf he desired, but apart from a little bit of harmless fun, Graham had no connection to anyone in his pack. He had tried reaching outside of the community, dipping his toes into the pool of loner she-wolves, but again, nothing struck him. No one knew him, no one gave him the life that included a love connection he so wished for, and he had all but given up on finding it.

Like many wolves, Graham ran to wind down, to release some of the pent-up tension acquired in human form, and at this particular time in his life, Graham ran to feel. Running was a high. His skin buzzed beneath his pelt as his muscles shifted over his bones with every stride, his huge paws pounding the compact forest floor, the only sound for miles his low, grumbling pants as his breath left his lungs. If he couldn’t feel love, he could at least still feel the freedom of cantering through the forest.

The forest seemed to disappear, only the wind against his face, pinning his ears to the flat broadness of his skull as he galloped. His fur snagged nearby bushes but went unnoticed to him at the speed he was hitting. Graham was a light coated wolf, the silver guard hairs of his outer layer more visible in the darkness than some of his other pack members, and his light, fair tanned face soft and welcoming. He was deceivingly meek looking, having inherited the faded agouti shades from his mother, and if it were not for his imposing size, he could have been mistaken for her at quick glance.

Wolves were discouraged from running alone, but Graham loved it. It was freeing to run alone, if not more so than with others, and there were often times he and Emma would tell David they were running together but went their separate ways. They were so similar, like true siblings, and they both understood the need for space, despite what they had been taught. They had been raised with the understanding that there was strength in numbers, that they were at their most vulnerable whilst alone, and it was always the last thing on Graham’s mind when he was running solo.

And maybe that was why, as he broke through the edge of the trees, and the ground turned to asphalt under his paws, he was blinded by the brightness of headlights and overcome with searing pain in his foreleg before his world faded from view and he passed out with a weak growl.

When Graham tried to open his eyes, they seemed to be stuck shut. His eyelids were heavier than usual, his breathing shallow and calm, even though he should have been more alert. He was in wolf form, he could tell that much, but as he struggled to find his surroundings, nose twitching at the end of his muzzle, all he could do was sigh.

His whole body was weighed down by an invisible force and despite the fact his brain was telling his limbs to move, they denied his request. He was laying on what felt like grass, or straw and he could smell the faintest whiff of other animals. The scents were aged, maybe months old, and all he could hear as his funnel like ears swiveled on his head, was the creak of wood.

He inhaled a little more deeply, and his senses picked up the tiniest traces of fresh paint and the lingering tang of a diesel engine. Together with the straw bed, he was sure he had ended up in some kind of shed or outhouse, but the last thing he remembered was being hit by the car and luckily for him, he had kept the good fortune to stay in wolf form. He recalled the sound of his foreleg snapping but there was no pain right now, his entire body floating.

The sound of rattling tools and the scrape of the wooden door in the dirt set his fur standing on end and his toes dug into the straw bed in anticipation. Before he had time to send out a warning growl, a floral scent filled his nostrils and the soft shuffling of shoes on the barn floor had him intrigued more than scared. Jasmine calmed him instantly, his breathing leveling out from his panicked state as he inhaled the sweet flowery smell, and he finally managed to peel an eye open to see a blurry figure approaching.

It was a woman, he could tell, and the way the sunlight flooded into the barn from behind her made her seem like an angel, the orange glow of the morning sun surrounding her like a halo. Graham could tell it was the start of the day because there was only a slight amount of warmth and the morning sunlight was busy evaporating the nightly mist that still lingered in the barn doorway.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman reach for something above his head and he followed her movements with a weary but blurry gaze. Something must have been making him so slow, the haze around her arm never clearing, no matter how many times he tried to blink away the fog, and for a second, he focused enough to see the saline bag hanging on the wooden post beside the stall from a bent, rusty nail.

He groaned, half in protest and half in submission. He was hurt, there was no denying he’d heard his leg break, but he felt no fear from the woman’s presence. She didn’t seem to be scared of him either, crouching down beside him after she had fiddled with his painkiller-filled drip and resting her elbows on her knees. Graham focused a little, the scent of her perfume wafting into his nostrils tenfold and he let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

“Hey there, boy,” she said softly, her voice nothing but calm. 

Graham felt himself relax even more into the straw bed he was laying on but his flight instinct was still bubbling just under the surface of his skin. With the least amount of energy he had left, he let out a menacing growl he was unable to fight through instinct and the woman shuffled back from him. The distance was welcoming, but as Graham’s eyes fluttered closed one more time, he heard her voice as clear as day.

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”

Almost no time had passed before Graham heard the scrape of the door again and peeled his eyes open. They were more responsive this time and he managed to lift his head, watching the particles of dust dancing in the new morning sunlight as it flooded in behind the angelic woman. Graham was more focused now, his vision giving him a clear view of the woman who approached him with a cautious smile.

“Hey boy,” she soothed, keeping her distance whilst checking on the hanging bag. The plastic had completely drained and as she fiddled with replacing it, Graham followed the clear, plastic tube that lead directly into his foreleg. The soft, downy cream fluff on his leg had been shaved short, the regrowth beginning to itch underneath the bright blue vet wrap bandage that held the cannula against his limb. “You feeling better today?” The woman asked, the voice like music to his ears and grabbing his attention.

Every wolf instinct inside of him told him to run. Humans were not to be trusted, especially in the wolf form he was trapped in whilst his body recovered, and it took everything Graham had to stay still. He was fighting his response to flee, the fur on the back on his neck standing on end for no other reason than the woman in front of him was simply, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. 

Her hair was long, a very dark brown and contrasted against her pale skin and rouged lips. She smelled of jasmine again and already Graham felt like he might be addicted to the scent of her. She gave him a smile, her perfectly shaped lips spreading across her features and Graham wished he could cradle her face between his hands and kiss her. The warmth behind her green eyes made him relax just so he was shocked to feel the pinch on his toes. He yelped, pulled his leg and awkwardly scurried back in his straw bedding stall as far as the cast on his foreleg would allow.

“I’m sorry, boy,” the woman pouted sympathetically, crouching down at the entrance to the stall to seem less imposing. “But look at it this way, you can still feel your toes, which is good,” she beamed, standing to her feet and brushing the dust off of her dark blue, skin tight pants. 

Graham watched her with a scowl, his ears twitching on his head as she moved around outside of the stall. He was curious about her, but more than just as a werewolf play thing, and he felt himself leaning forward to watch her move around the barn. She collected up a saddle in her arms, the deceivingly thin limbs more than capable of carrying the heavy leather piece, and then grabbed for a bridle hanging above his stall.

“I’m going for a ride,” she told him as if he would reply with more than a puzzled canine glance. “You rest now. I’ll check back on you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came and went. In fact, Graham counted no less than thirteen sunrises that introduced the arrival of his guardian angel. In the accident, Graham had broken his leg, shattered it in a few places, the dark haired angel had told him on one of the days, but he was on the mend. He was becoming stronger, having initially dropped a few pounds after being so high on pain medication, but with his recovery came his strength and it wasn’t long before he was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his raven haired caretaker on his feet with a wagging tail.

“Hey, my sweet boy,” the woman said eagerly, the barn door not even open before she had called out to him. Graham’s tail brushed against his hocks as she approached, his cannula and drip now removed but his cast still covering his foreleg. It had been wrapped in a dark blue bandage but that had become dirty and worn, especially where Graham had nibbled at the top part to try and relieve some of the itching underneath. “Are you ready?”

Graham gave her a wolfish grin, his ears flattening on top of his broad skull, and a puppy like whine too high pitched for an animal of his size escaping his maw. He licked his lips excitedly as she approached. Today was the day she had promised him for over a week - the cast was coming off and he would finally be able to lick at the agonizingly irritating niggling itch underneath.

She approached him still with a hint of caution, he was a wolf after all, but she had become more confident. He had let her remove his cannula without incident and when she had asked if he would be a good boy on the removal of his cast, he had just given her a soppy puppy dog stare and a sideways tilt of his head. If Graham didn’t know better, he would say she had domesticated him.

And he loved it.

“Are you going to behave?” She asked him again with a raised eyebrow, all too aware that in a crouching position with a cast saw in hand she may very well be trampled by a panicking wolf. Graham grumbled low in his throat and gave her the same head tilt, his ears flopping sideways. “Okay then,” she said on an inhaled breath, inching closer to him and powering on the handheld saw.

Graham flinched a little, unsure of the noise more than anything as it invaded his ear canal with a terrifyingly high pitched squeal, but he sat and let the dark haired woman lift his leg onto her knee as she cut into the cast. Graham knew a cast saw would never cut skin so he kept still, watching the concentration of her delightful face as she went to work, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth and her brow furrowed with effort. Graham was pretty sure, at that moment, his life had just become a whole lot more complicated as his heart skipped a beat and he flexed his claws against her knee as if attempting to hold onto her.

“There,” she announced triumphantly when the two sides of the cast fell away. “All done!” Graham leaped back, a playful growl coming from his lips as he sniffed at his leg and paraded back and forth around the barn. He had been largely confined to the stall, the straw now reeking of his dirty, oily wolf pelt, and it felt good to stretch all of his legs. There was a little pain at the site of the break, no more than an ache now, and Graham’s tail began another rhythmic wag in an arch over his back.

Forgetting himself for a second, Graham bolted for the door, stopping when she called out to him. “Woah, boy!” she called and he stopped dead, looking at her with wide, expectant eyes and a playful pant. He wanted to stay, he wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but if he didn’t head back to Misthaven soon, David would surely send a search party after his beta. That would spell bad news for his new companion, and he wished her no harm, especially the fate that would befall a human who had, in their eyes, held a werewolf captive.

“I mean,” she corrected herself quickly, twisting her body in the dusty barn floor and sinking forward onto her knees. “You can go if you want to. You are not a prisoner here, you never were,” she smiled softly, looking down at her hands that were flattened over her thighs as she let out a short chuckle. “Look at me talking to a wolf,” she chastised herself with a shake of her head. “God, Ruby, you're so lonely.”

And there it was - the moment Graham learned her name and wished more than anything he could transform back into human form and tell her everything. She wasn’t lonely, she never would be and he would do anything to repay her for her kindness. If that meant spending the rest of his life with her, it was a burden he was willing to bear. But he couldn’t tell her. Werewolves who had sustained a traumatic event or injury were trapped in their wolf form until they had healed sufficiently to survive the shift back to human form, and Graham knew his body would heal much faster in his current form.

All he could do to reassure her was take the tentative steps towards her and sniff at her hands, like a pet dog comforting their master. He nudged her long, nimble fingers with his cold wet nose. Ruby looked up at him, a mixture of shock and fear on her face, the sound of her blood throbbing in her veins and the smell of her sudden panicked flush making him retract his actions. He stepped back, lowering his head in a type of submissive apology and getting lost in her sea green eyes.

“It’s okay,” Ruby whispered half to herself and half to the huge wolf in front of her, holding out her hand to him once more, her voice laced with a shaky anticipation he had not noticed from her before. She was scared, and rightly so, but Graham would never hurt her, and he met her outstretched hand with a sniff and a lick. Ruby gasped, her fingers trembling at the end of her arm and she swallowed audibly. “Good boy,” she breathed, her lips twitching into a smile.

Graham let her move her hand a little more until it was threaded in the deep pile around his neck, her fingers feeling like a welcome fire to his skin. It was incredible. Graham had never been petted before, a practice so frowned upon because of its connotations with domestic canines. Werewolves were not, and never would be, pets by the Chronicle's ruling, but Graham would gladly let her pet him all day long if she wanted to just to see the happiness in her eyes. His expression softened, his breathing slowing as she toyed with his pelt, her own amazement etched across her face and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m touching a wolf,” she whispered to herself, her breathing resuming once more. Graham stepped away suddenly, shaking and ridding his skin of the tingling sensation. He had to go back to Misthaven, regardless of how much his heart was crying out for more of her touch. He skipped to the open barn doors once more, the faded, curled red paint falling from the wood as he neared it, and he stopped to give her one last glance as the sunlight warmed his face.

“Will I see you again?” She asked gently, a weak smile pulling at her lips. Graham sighed, the breath leaving his lungs and evaporating in the morning sunlight as he lingered near the doorway a tad longer, looking back and locking eyes with the woman he owed everything to. He would see her again, without a doubt, and when he took off through the open doors and headed back to Misthaven, he was sure he heard a soft sob echoing in the barn.

\--

Graham had done some truly stupid things in his life, what short years there were of it, but maybe the most idiotic was what he was doing right now. He was standing in the waiting room of a veterinary clinic with a tiny bundle under his arms awaiting the sound of his name. It wasn’t ideal, he admitted that and he had absolutely no intention of ever owning a pet, let alone a puppy, but here he was.

And for what? Why would a werewolf want to own a pet? And a dog of all things? The answer was simple and over the last few months, he had fought with himself over and over in case he was wrong. His heart yearned, and in wolf form, he pined for the feel of her fingers through his fur once more. To hear her voice just one more time as she walked towards him with nothing but compassion in her eyes and a smile on her face.

But it was wrong. It was strictly forbidden. Graham had killed wolves for less, and yet here he was, standing in some nowhere town with an Irish Wolfhound puppy desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp, all so that he could _maybe_ catch a glimpse of his savior.

He had done some research. Her name was Ruby Lucas and she was a veterinarian two states over from Misthaven. She had a small holding with a few horses that she rode daily, and big unused barn where she rehabilitated wildlife in from time to time and no boyfriend or husband. She had no family to speak of, and her only friends seemed to be the animals she worked with and a few old classmates who still lived in their hometown.

Graham had obsessed over her for months after he had returned, never quite feeling as complete as he had that day she touched his muzzle, unafraid and with a smile that set her green eyes aglow. He would shift and run to her farm, watching her from the edges of the woodland adjacent, careful not to spook her horses with his scent. She was a goddess, the more he looked at her he got pulled in by her beauty, and on more than one occasion he chastised himself for his akin to stalking behaviour.

But there was no use. Ruby had beguiled him and soon Graham found himself sneaking from Misthaven more regularly in search of even the slightest glimpse of her. Some days she would go to the local bar and dance, unwinding after a long stressful day. She always went alone but the way she moved like nobody was watching made him want her even more, and he wished he had the courage to approach her as a man.

Other days she would simply sit at home, feet up on the battered arm of her couch, a bowl of popcorn on her lap and tears streaming from her face as she watched yet another romantic comedy. Sometimes Graham felt like he was living one, the man in pursuit of the woman who didn't even see him, and yet, it was for the exact opposite reason Graham did devote so much of his time to Ruby. She had seen him, even as a wolf, she was not afraid and there was something connecting them that he knew she felt as strongly as he did.

Graham Humbert, werewolf and Misthaven beta, was in love with Ruby Lucas, a human.

“Mr. Humbert?” A voice shook him from his anxious daydream and his head snapped up to meet the green orbs of the raven haired vet. Ruby was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered from last time he had seen her, only at eye level she was much taller than he had first thought. She was almost the same height as him, her long legs disappearing into her very business-like skirt and her dainty, milky white ankles gently wrapped in the strap of some black, flat shoes. 

“Would you like to come in?” She beamed, motioning through the door behind her and like an obedient hound, Graham trotted after her. “I’m Ruby,” she introduced herself casually, extending her hand out to him.

“Hi,” he smiled back, taking her hand awkwardly as the grey scruffy puppy in his arms struggled to be free once again. His tail beat a steady rhythm against Graham’s jacket, a dull thud echoing between them and his tongue flicked out in an attempt to lick at the new person in his proximity. Graham nearly touched her, but before he had a chance to take her hand in his, the puppy in his arms overstretched and almost slipped from his grasp. Graham grabbed him quickly, scooping him back into his arms and looking back to the giggling vet with a blush.

“And who is this?” Ruby cooed, reaching for the puppy and relieving Graham of his charge. 

“Hunter,” Graham said quickly, his Irish lilt rolling the word on his tongue. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet, crossing and then uncrossing his arms nervously. 

“And you are?” Ruby prompted with a smirk, placing Hunter down on top of the rubber matted table between them and ruffling her fingers through his wiry hair. Graham looked up at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a shy smirk.

“I’m Graham,” he said softly, finally settling on putting his hands into the pocket of his jeans and inhaling hard through his smile. Her scent invaded him, coating his tongue and hitting the back of his throat like a fresh flower. She still smelled of jasmine, the familiar scent making him feel the warmth in the pit of his stomach that he had craved.

“Well, Graham,” Ruby accented his name, testing it on her tongue with a small, twitchy smile that she tried to hide. “What can we do for Hunter today?”

She looked up once more, her hair tumbling over her shoulders with a flick of her head and her full, rouged lips spreading into a smile. Graham blushed instantly, a new human reaction for him, and he balled his fists in his jeans as he tensed. There was nothing wrong with the puppy, he knew that, and when she raised her eyebrow at his lack of an answer, somehow he knew she knew that too.

“Maybe he needs his shots?” Ruby suggested and Graham nodded shyly.

“Yeah, I think that’s it,” Graham nodded, pulling his hands from his jeans and stepping closer to the table again. As he did, Hunter spun on his little fluffy back legs and tumbled towards his owner, licking furiously at the air in front of his muzzle submissively. 

“You think?” Ruby teased, stopping the puppy from launching himself from the table top at the same time Graham reached for the wolfhound youngling, their hands brushing and sending a wave of warmth through his body. After a heartbeat, Graham cleared his throat and swallowed a dry lump that had formed there. “How long have you been a dog owner?”

Graham blew out an exaggerated breath, trying to act as human as possible. “A few days,” he said honestly with a shrug.

Ruby quirked her eyebrow again, the perfectly shaped, almost black line of hair dancing up on her forehead. “I can tell,” she said with a smile. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Graham asked playfully, his eyes narrowing as he relaxed a little. It was clear she was more comfortable than he was right now, but as she looked up to meet his gaze again, she lost her smile and a blush stained her ashen cheeks with a pink tint.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend,” she offered professionally and then promptly spun around until she was facing the small computer screen behind her. She idly clicked at the buttons on the mouse, but there was no reason for the number of clicks she was administering and Graham suspected she was just trying to avoid him.

“It’s okay,” Graham murmured, the only other sound between them being the dull scratching of Hunter’s razor sharp puppy claws on the rubber lined table. She turned, looking over her shoulder first before her entire body followed and she was facing him once more, albeit a little redder in the cheeks than before. Graham could smell her nervousness.

“It was unprofessional,” Ruby quipped curtly, her flattened palms on the table between them another distraction for the puppy who tried to claw his way towards her.

“It’s okay, really,” Graham assured her, struggling to comprehend how something so small could elude his grip so efficiently when Hunter slipped from his fingers and jumped up to lick Ruby’s face. “I didn’t mean…”

“Hey there, boy,” Ruby soothed the puppy, her smile returning the instant she sank her fingers into his rough coat and pulled him to her. She inhaled his scent, the musk of puppy breath and slightly coarse fur making her eyes flutter closed and her face to light up with what Graham could tell was the memory of his wolf form. Her words were the same, the dulcet tones identical to when she had greeted him, and Hunter relaxed into her embrace as if he had just lost all of his energy reserves.

Graham remembered the effect of her smooth voice on his canine form, so wasn’t surprised when Hunter surrendered to her siren’s call in the same way.

“I think he likes you,” Graham smiled at her, pointing to the yawning puppy.

Ruby ruffled the hair between Hunter’s ears and poked at his nose playfully. “That’s because I haven’t stuck him yet,” she cooed into the puppy’s face and Graham stifled a laugh. She was adorable.

“I’m sure he won’t even feel it,” Graham smirked, watching her stroke the puppy in her arms with a pang of jealousy. He hadn’t felt the sting of a needle when Ruby had looked after him, but what he wouldn’t give to feel her fingers on his body again. “And don’t worry about what you said, it wasn’t unprofessional at all.”

Ruby looked up at him and her smile faded a little, only matching his again when she really looked into his eyes. They were deeper than they looked, blue pools of ocean deep echoes that pulled her into a swarm of emotions she never wanted to escape. She felt like she had seen them before, but couldn’t quite place the easy feeling that accompanied his stare.

“If you want to hear something unprofessional, I could ask you out on a date,” Graham teased, sucking in a breath through his teeth and cocking his head to one side dramatically. It made Ruby laugh, her hair falling over her face when she dipped her head forward. 

“You could,” Ruby nodded, unable to hide the wide grin on her face.

“Would you say yes?” Graham arched a brow, squinting through one open eye as if he

were scared of her rejection.

“Maybe,” Ruby taunted, biting the tip of her tongue.

Graham sighed an exaggerated grunt of frustration and shuffled his feet from side to side. He planted his hand on his hips and dramatically rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Well, now I’m afraid to ask you.”

“Will Hunter be there?” Ruby asked quickly and Graham frowned.

“On a date?” he laughed.

“Why not?” Ruby asked incredulously. “I thought he was your wingman.”

“What gave you that idea?” Graham chuckled, licking his lips nervously.

“Well,” Ruby began, handing him back the now sleeping puppy and letting her fingers linger on his a little longer than necessary. “You are a new dog owner but have yet to ask a single question, so I can only assume he is not actually yours, in which case you stole a puppy…”

“I would never,” Graham laughed harder, pulling Hunter to his chest and tucking him inside of his jacket possessively.

“Or,” she continued, pointing a finger at him playfully. “You _have_ owned dogs before, and have another reason for walking into my office today.” She folded her arms over her chest and took a long, triumphant breath, leaving the ball in his court with a raised eyebrow.

“You got me,” Graham admitted. “I _did_ come here to ask you a very important question.”

“Go on,” Ruby prompted, hiding her excitement that Graham could smell all over her. He had smelled it before when she had first touched him, the exhilaration thrumming from her skin both then and now.

“Have you ever been to Tony’s?” Graham grinned.

\--

_Two and a half years Later_

Since their first date, Graham had taken Ruby to dinner at Tony’s Italian restaurant every Friday without fail. Even when Misthaven demanded his attention, he was able to sneak away and travel over two states to where Ruby lived with little fuss, and if David ever suspected anything, he had never mentioned it. Graham almost gave his relationship away once, whilst talking to Mary Margaret, but luckily for him, she wasn’t in a very inquisitive mood that day and was satisfiedwith a simple, evasive answer.

It was easy for Graham to spend time away from Misthaven because David always had an errand for him to run. Luckily for him, the James’ Neverland pack was situated close to where Ruby lived, so he was always nearby for reconnaissance. As long as he relayed the information that David had asked for back to him, he was in the clear. After six months it had become clear that his feelings for Ruby were never going to wane, in fact, they had only grown stronger.

He ached when they were apart, as did she. Ruby had told him on many occasions she couldn’t stand it when he was gone, and Graham had died a little inside each time he told her he was away for work. To make it a little more bearable, Graham had suggested Hunter live with her so she could snuggle with the growing hound each time she was lonely, a suggestion she accepted gladly. He wasn’t exactly lying, but he felt dishonest all the same, his heart cracking a little each time he told her and she accepted his reason with a smile and without argument. She was kind and good and Graham often laid awake at night trying to find a solution to his heartache.

Being caught between his love for Ruby and his loyalty to Misthaven was tearing him apart.

The restaurant was as it usually was every Friday night - half packed with the same patrons he had come to recognise week after week and who he now realised posed no threat. He could sense both human and Were diners, their scents mingling together on his tongue, but the entire time Graham had been coming here, no one had ever mentioned anything about werewolves. Tony’s was known for its acceptance of all, including Were, and he was just another fan of pasta along with every other beast in the place.

As if on cue, Tony greeted them at the door and shooed away the teenage usher with a scowl, stating they were important guests. Ruby met his enthusiastic kiss with a peck to his stubbled, jowly cheek and Graham shook his hand with a broad smile.

“Mr. Jones has beat you here this week,” he declared happily, his Italian accent almost forced for comedy effect. He nodded over to their usual table, and Ruby and Graham followed his gaze and the point of his hairy knuckled finger. 

The man he was pointing to was a regular patron of the restaurant and an old friend of Ruby’s that she had introduced to Graham early on in their relationship. As if he sensed he was being talked about, the man looked over at them and gave them a smile, the blue of his eyes glinting in the light above the table as he waved them over. 

Graham had found out early on that the man was Were, and he assumed he had known he was too, but neither of them had spoken about it at great length. One time, when Ruby excused herself to the bathroom, Graham had asked Jones how a Werewolf had become such good friends with a human woman and he was told they were just old friends. Sensing his pang of jealousy, Jones had assured Graham there was nothing more to him and Ruby than that and he simply loved her like a sister.

Graham hadn’t missed the warning growl in his words that was more protective than possessive either.

“Liam!” Ruby squealed, rushing to her friend and embracing him in a tight hug just as he had got to his feet. Graham caught up just as they were moving apart and shook Liam’s hand eagerly.

“Hey, how was England?” Graham enquired, business like.

“Oh, you know,” Liam shrugged, letting out a breath. “Raining.”

Graham laughed, slapping a flat palm to Liam’s shoulder. “Could be worse,” he teased. “You could be Irish.”

“Graham says it always rains more in Ireland,” Ruby interjected their exchange sweetly, shrugging the coat off of her shoulders and thanking Tony as he whisked it away with a wink.

“It does,” Liam agreed and motioned for them to sit in the booth opposite him. “And despite my name and heritage, I have no inclination to visit any time soon.” Liam gave Graham a cheeky glare and reached for a glass of sparkling water in front of him, the bubbles drifting to the surface when he moved the glass.

“Remind me never to visit either of your countries,” Ruby scoffed, her nose wrinkling a little as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t be like that,” Graham teased, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him. “You’d love it.”

“Yeah, you’d fit right in, Red,” Liam smirked, stifling a laugh and hiding behind his menu.

“Shut up, Jones. Shut up right now,” Ruby warned and Graham looked between them confused.

“What am I missing?” Graham asked, his own smirk matching Liam’s as Ruby buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t you have to go away again soon?” Ruby asked quickly, trying to change the subject. “Another business trip we could talk about, maybe? Please?”

“Yes, I do but that is not what we want to talk about,” Liam winked at her, turning to face Graham. “The gorgeous brunette you see beside you was not always so raven haired,” Liam chuckled. Graham watched as Ruby’s cheeks turned a shade of pink he had never seen before. “Ruby here, got her name when she was born and her parents instantly loved her red hair.”

Ruby groaned at Liam’s tale of her childhood hair colour and she cringed as she lifted her head to find Graham looking at her in awe. “What?” She asked defensively but he was stunned to silence, simply shaking his head with a slack jaw as he tried to imagine the most gorgeous woman he had ever met as a redhead.

“I have photos,” Liam said through his laugh and Ruby glared at him with a clenched jaw.

“Burn them,” she commanded darkly, pointing at him with a threatening finger. “Tonight.”

“Woah, let’s not be too hasty,” Graham interrupted their stare down and excitedly turned his entire body until he was facing Ruby, his eyes darkening with the lust he could never control around her. She met his gaze and smiled, their eyes having a brief conversation without their lips even saying a word. “Could you have a little Irish in you?” He raised a brow, his voice gruff and his eyes flicking over her lips.

“Maybe if you play your cards right,” Ruby smiled coyly, biting her bottom lip. Unable to resist her any longer, Graham lunged forward and captured her lips in a fiery kiss that told her just how much he wanted what she was insinuating.

“I’m right here, guys,” Liam huffed drolly, not looking up from the menu. They pulled apart quickly and gave him sheepish looks. “Why do you guys even invite me if all you do is make out?” he sighed.

“You’re our friend?” Ruby offered.

“We pay?” Graham suggested immediately afterward.

“Excellent!” Liam declared and motioned Tony back to their table to order. The overweight owner arrived with his dog-eared notepad and half-chewed pencil poised. “The house special,” he beamed. It was the most expensive item on the menu and Tony scribbled it down quickly with a wide eyed smile. 

Eventually, when Graham had asked enough questions about the colour of Ruby’s childhood hair, they had talked a little more about Liam’s work trip. He traveled a lot, mainly between his home country and America, and part of the reason why they met up at Tony’s was that Ruby felt like she never saw him anymore. They had been friends their whole life, their families living right next door to each other, and as an only child, Ruby had always been thankful for his friendship.

Graham had come to accept that his love was best friends with a man, even if he did get jealous. With both of them being Were, the feelings ran more rampant and sometimes Graham suspected that Liam knew and played up his harmless flirting to annoy him. But when Ruby assured him Liam was only trying to test him, to make sure he was good enough for her, he let it all slide. No one had ever managed to calm him like Ruby did, and all she had to do was smile at him for him to know she would always be his and all his jealousy would evaporate instantly.

“Move in with me,” Ruby said casually as they strolled down the dirt track up to her farm. She had asked before and Graham was running out of excuses. He clenched her hand tighter at his side and watched his feet as he walked.

“We’ve been through this,” he said softly, no anger in his words. Graham was so placated around her that it would be hard for anyone to believe he was the werewolf feared by so many.

“I know,” Ruby cut him off and squeezed his hand back. “But if you could. Would you?”

Graham stopped their walking, halfway to the house, the sound of crickets in the nearby grass pricking in his ears as he pulled her to him. He let her fall against his chest and brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, wrapping his arms around her lovingly. “You know I would,” he said with an apologetic tone. “If things…”

“If things were different, I know,” Ruby finished for him, looking down at her hand that lay flat over his heart. A silence fell between them, like many times before, and Graham wished with everything he had that he could change who he was so that they could live as humanly as possible. “What if they already are?” Her voice was small, almost shaky, and she fisted the material of his shirt nervously.

“If they already are?” Graham cocked his head to the side and looked down at her quizzically. When she didn't look up at him, Graham hooked a crooked finger under her chin and tilted her head back until he could see the beauty in her eyes again. He smiled at her, but when she didn’t return it, he started to panic. “What do you mean, _if they already are?_ ”

“Things are different,” Ruby told him nervously, her bottom lip worried by her teeth. Graham searched her face, staring deep into her eyes for any indication of what she meant and it didn’t register what she was trying to tell him until she took his hand and placed it over her flat stomach.

Graham was hit with an emotion he had never experienced before. He was scared. Petrified. His first wave of joy was quickly overtaken by the harsh reality of what happens when a human becomes pregnant with a werewolf child. His relationship with Ruby was forbidden and so far he had managed to keep it a secret, but this was so much more than he could ever contain. 

What would happen to Ruby when the child came up to its wolf day? Graham had heard of so many horror stories with mongrel cubs tearing their human parents apart in anger, murdering them in cold blood when they failed to understand the change. The Chronicle was clear and Graham knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be discovered and brought before the Werewolf Council. People talked, but werewolves were gossips, and Ruby was in danger of death if anyone found out about her. He couldn’t let that happen to the woman he loved, even if it meant he had to give up the thing he had wanted with her most of all.

“Ruby, I…” He stammered, fingers flexing over her even stomach as he fought to ignore the swell of pride in his chest.

“Of course, we’ll have to move away, so the council doesn’t find us,” she shrugged and his head snapped up to meet hers, wide eyed and shocked.

“The council?” he asked innocently, a blush spreading over the tips of his ears.

“The werewolf council,” Ruby told him matter of factly.

“How do you know about the council?” he spluttered, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Come on,” Ruby smiled, rolling her eyes and reaching up to run her fingers through the lightly curled hair on top of his head. Graham’s confusion ebbed away at her touch, and his eyes rolled closed. “My good boy,” she soothed gently, as if he were in wolf form.

“I don’t understand,” Graham whispered, her fingers like magic on his scalp, fading away as she slid her hands to his cheeks. He peeled his eyes open once again, and she was looking up at him knowingly. 

“Humbert, don’t be a fool,” she teased, lightly scratching the stubble on his cheeks. “I grew up with Liam, who I am sure you know by now is Were, so you can stop pretending you are any more human than he is.”

Graham didn’t know what to say and simply stared at her. She was sassy, it was one of the things he loved about her, but she was also passionate and playful and he loved her even more for those things than he could ever show. “How long have you known?” Graham asked softly, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

Ruby made a face, looking up to the sky in mock thought. “Remember that time I hit you with my truck?”

Graham laughed weakly and clutched her hands harder to his face, turning to place a kiss to her palm. “You did not know then,” he accused.

“Okay, not then,” Ruby conceded, enjoying the prickle of warmth that travelled from his lips and covered her entire body. “But I suspected I had hit a Werewolf because of how big you were. I might be just a small town vet, but even _I_ know wolves don’t get that big.”

“So when then?” Graham prodded, his hands sliding to her forearms and his thumb brushing over the skin of her wrist.

“The day you brought Hunter in.” She laughed at the memory briefly, loving how awkwardly nervous he had been in her presence. “I just knew I had met you before. I could see it in your eyes.”

Graham smiled at her sadly. “And you’ve known all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Without warning Ruby slapped him on the back of the head lightly, glaring at him. “Did you want the entire Werewolf council coming down on your ass?” She chastised, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “No, neither did I. If it meant I only saw you a few times a week, I was willing to take that over never seeing you again.”

“Oh, Ruby,” Graham sighed sympathetically, pulling her into his strong arms and holding her tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“So you should be!” Ruby’s voice was muffled by his shirt and he loosened his grip on her so she could pull away from him. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and he brushed a stray strand back behind her ear, giving her an amused look. “You knocked me up, Humbert. Now, what are we going to do?”

Graham could tell she was trying to make light of the situation, and it pained him to have to even consider the possibilities of their future. If they could even have one. 

“I know what I have to do,” Graham said solemnly, running his hands down her arms and grabbing onto her fingers. “I just want to protect you.”

“I know that means you have to leave,” Ruby swallowed hard, the tears pricking at her eyelids. She could blame the pregnancy hormones if she really wanted to, but her tears were welling up at the thought of losing the man that she loved. “Just give me tonight,” she babbled, her breath hitching in her throat. “And be gone when-”

Graham dropping to one knee in front of her stopped her words and Ruby gasped audibly. He looked up at her with watery blue eyes of his own, his cheeks red and his hands shaking as they gripped hers for dear life.

“Graham, what are you-”

“Ruby Lucas, will you marry me?” Graham rasped in a shaky voice. “I don’t know how, but we have to make this work. We have to be together. For Hunter,” he joked and Ruby matched his laugh with her own.

“He would miss you terribly,” she agreed in a soft voice.

“Oh, and the baby,” Graham added, in case she was ever in any doubt of his intentions. Ruby rolled her eyes and gave him a playful tap on the cheek. “And I love you. With everything I have and everything I ever will have. I can’t promise it will be easy-”

“What, you mean a human and a werewolf? Pfft. It’s always been so easy for those sort of couples before,” Ruby teased, the truth in her words hitting them both hard. There would only be so long they could joke about this until they had to come up with a viable solution. “On second thought,” Ruby said suddenly, her smile fading.

Graham jumped to his feet and his panicked gaze flitted over her features. He saw her pain, he smelled her fear and there was nothing he could do to take it away. “Ruby, If you say no, I’ll still fight tooth and nail to protect you with everything I have,” Graham told her earnestly, cupping her face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to hers, his bottom lip shaking a little against hers. “I will give up everything I’ve ever known to protect you and our child.”

“Really?” Ruby breathed, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Really,” Graham nodded, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll even move in,” he laughed weakly. A single tear rolled down his cheek when he pinched his eyes closed and the lump in his throat made it hard to breathe.

“Okay, ask me again,” Ruby whispered, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt and holding him to her. Graham’s eyes opened to meet hers and she gave him a small smile.

“Ruby Lucas, Will you-”

“Yes,” she grinned as she cut him off, pulling his shirt hard until their lips met again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something bad happens in this chapter. No one dies, but there is a fight scene which does not go in the favour of Killian. I do not want to give away anything that may happen, so if you wanted to know WHAT happens before you read, please message me on Tumblr @artistic-writer and we can talk about it :)

Walsh took another long drag of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke, which had now become so familiar to his senses that he no longer exhaled in disgust. The back of his throat was coated in the earthy taste of tobacco, the faintest hint of charred herbs lingering along the taste buds at the back of his tongue, and the crackle of burning paper echoed in his hyper sensitive ear canals as the thin paper burnt away. He blew the off white cloud into the air in front of him and threw the remaining butt to the ground where he crushed it beneath his boot. Walsh kicked the butt aside, and the crooked, foam filled tip landed in a pile of discarded kin.

It felt like days since he had left Neverland, half way to Misthaven before he had caught a scent of something intriguing in the breeze. It was familiar, he’d smelled it before, but it was tainted with something that he had not been able to forget since visiting Misthaven and it made his skin itch with excitement. It was a sweet, honey like scent that was poorly hidden by the human sweat that lingered with it, and it made him salivate when he realised what it was.

Walsh could smell Emma Nolan, and she had her wolf heat.

He had hightailed it back in the direction he came from, unsure as to why Emma would have ventured Neverland bound, but trusted his nose nonetheless. The scent became stronger the closer he came to the city and he had followed it around the streets, crisscrossing over his own tracks more than once as he dedicated his time to tracking Emma. James had given his orders, but there was nothing wrong with having a little fun first.

It wasn’t just Emma who Walsh could smell in the wind. He recognised the Misthaven beta too, his scent much stronger in some places than others, but Graham was without a doubt nearby. This meant he had to watch out and be on high alert. Who knew why Graham was in the city, or why he was there now, but Walsh didn’t need to take the risk that Graham would find him. Staying downwind was his only option, so he had been reduced to lurking through alleyways and over rooftops in search of his quarry.

When Walsh had finally seen Emma, he was sitting on the roof of a building, where he had found her scent the strongest. He had waited all night, not eating or sleeping, just waiting to catch a glimpse of her. When he did, she had been coming out of the opposite apartment building, alone and with nothing on her person. She had a man’s sweater on, which was clearly too big for her, and she was smiling proudly to herself. Whatever was in the building had her happy and distracted, which gave Walsh the perfect opportunity to strike.

But he was also intrigued. Why was she here? Why was she so far away from Misthaven, and if she wasn’t with the beta she so clearly did not want to marry, then who was the owner of the sweater whose scent offended him so violently? It was triggering a rage inside of him that was overriding his orders from James, his internal questioning almost sending him insane as he watched her stride down the sidewalk.

As he was about to light up another cigarette for the smokey burnt char taste he had become addicted to, the sun peeked over the top of the opposite side of the building, rendering him almost blind. He heard a muffled scream from down the street, and by the time he had moved his position to the corner of the building, Emma was gone. He quickly scanned the street below for any trace of her, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was about to head from the building to pursue her last known location on foot when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

With an angry growl, Walsh slapped a flat palm on the edge of the building, spinning on his heels and grabbing the phone from his inner pocket. He didn’t even look at the screen as he swiped across the glass, lifting the device to his ear and kicking at some rooftop gravel nearby.

“What?” He spat, jaw clenched and teeth grinding together.

“Is that how you talk to your alpha now?” James asked smoothly, his voice striking fear into Walsh and making his blood run cold.

“Boss, I…” he stammered.

“Never mind. I’ll deal with you later,” James said casually, the air in his voice unnerving. “Sitrep,” he demanded darkly. It was not a question.

“Right.” Walsh swallowed hard, turning to stalk back towards the edge of the building. He still couldn’t see Emma, but her scent was strong as it lingered in the air, so she couldn't have gone too far. “I found her,” he declared excitedly. “Close to home, too. I was halfway to Misthaven before I caught her scent and followed her back to the city.”

“The city, eh?” James’ voice was a little higher, the lilt of intrigue lacing his words. “What’s she doing all the way out here?” 

“That’s what I am going to find out,” Walsh said confidently.

“Good,” James snapped. “Find out what she came here for, or who, and make sure she regrets it.” The anger was evident in his words, and Walsh knew it was for David. 

Their plan involved hurting Emma, essentially hurting David and causing the start of the breakdown of Misthaven. No one would want to follow an alpha who couldn’t even keep a leash on his own daughter. The intention of leaving Emma with a little souvenir of the Neverland pack would give David no choice but to exile his only heir. 

A disgusting smile spread over Walsh’s face, his teeth yellowed from tobacco. “She is in heat, too,” he told James, the words slithering from his mouth. He threw his head back, inhaling a gust of wind that whipped around him, the smell of Emma covering his tongue. “I can almost taste her.”

“You know what needs to be done,” James instructed cryptically.

“And if she resists?” Walsh frowned a little as he peered over the edge of the rooftop once more and spied Emma exiting the diner down the street. In one hand, she was precariously balancing a cardboard tray which held two coffee cups and a white paper bag that was folded over the top and perched across them. As she neared the opposite building again, Walsh spied a man, tall with dark, messy bed hair and a scattering of stubble across his jaw as he greeted her at the door.

He looked familiar, but Walsh could not place him for a second. He was Were, Walsh could smell that, and he smelled like someone he had encountered once - the wolf who had given him the scar on his neck. But looking at him as a man, Walsh couldn’t be sure it was him. They had crossed paths, but that was over a decade ago, and he just couldn’t be sure it was the same wolf. They were both older now and the battle he had lost was whilst they werewolves, but when the man met Emma at the door and turned to give her a soft, lingering kiss, his boyish grin was unmistakably that of his nemesis.

It was him, the mongrel, and he had given Walsh the same shit eating grin when he was but a pup, taking his money and his dignity that night. Walsh instinctively reached up to brush his fingertips over the raised bumps of his scar. It had been years since the bite was inflicted, and the tissue still burned with the fire of his rage every time he looked upon it. The mongrel would pay, and so would Emma. Walsh couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have found both of them at the same time.

“On second thought, I don’t think she will resist,” Walsh grinned, his lips creepily curling back over his teeth.

“You found something already?” James enquired, his interest piqued.

Walsh could hear him taking a swig of beer at the other end of the line. “She’s with a wolf,” Walsh spat. “A mongrel,” he growled, his fingers gripping the phone so tightly his fingernails turned white. “I can smell his disgusting musk from the other side of the street.”

“Sounds like you know this wolf,” James suggested. “Will he be a problem?”

Walsh’s lips curved into a sly smirk. “Oh, on the contrary,” he beamed, watching Emma and Killian walk back into the building hand in hand. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and he had relieved her of the breakfast items, which freed up her hand to snake over the curve of his spine. Their affection was clear, and suddenly Walsh had the most tyrannical idea. “I think this will work to my advantage.”

\--

“He what?” Killian asked, aghast. “Are you okay?” he all but smothered her, hands running up her arms and over the delicate lines of her neck, trying to find any sign of injury. Emma shrugged him off, but couldn’t deny she loved the attention.

“I’m fine,” Emma assured him. “He just wanted to talk.”

Upon her return, Emma had told Killian about Graham’s ambush and how he had ushered her into the alleyway in order to convince her to help him. She had followed him to the diner to hear him out, and the more she listened to his scheme, the more she realised it might actually work.

“About what?” Killian demanded, jealousy lacing his words as he searched her face once more for any sign of hurt. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on the patch of skin there.

“Killian, I promise, I’m okay,” Emma smiled at him, her tight-lipped smile a mixture of adornment and frustration. 

Killian sighed, defeated. “If you are sure,” he nodded at her. To Killian, Graham was just a name and a voice at the end of a phone call. Yet, he wasn’t thwarted from feeling the gut-wrenching rage for the wolf who thought he could command Emma at the drop of a hat. “Tell me what he thinks is such a spectacular idea.”

“Death,” Emma said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

Killian gave her a confused look, eyes narrowing and head tilting to the side. “Forgive me, love, but I would call that a rather permanent solution to your troubles.”

“Not mine.” She slapped his chest, his flinch overly emphasised. “His.”

Again, Killian frowned, and although he was tempted by the idea of Emma’s betrothed meeting his end, he wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t be without consequences. Before he had time to question her further, Emma continued.

“If Graham fakes his death, we don’t have to get married and he can be with the woman he loves, who is human and also pregnant…” Emma informed him. 

Normally he found her rambling endearing, but he was immediately struck with a sense of utter confusion.

“Wait.” He held up his hands to slow her words, pinching his eyes closed in thought. “So there is a human?”

“Yes,” Emma nodded.

“Who is pregnant?” Killian clarified slowly.

“Yes,” Emma repeated with another nod.

“Isn’t that forbidden?” Killian asked softly, his brow twisting as his temples began to throb. Emma rolled her eyes upwards, twisting her lips into a sideways smile. 

“Technically.” She shrugged. 

Killian shook his head in disbelief. “And Graham thinks he can fake his own death?” 

Emma nodded. 

“And then what?” Killian asked more seriously. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Emma’s pack was more than persistent when it came to finding their missing members.

“He thinks he can run away with her and the child, and live a normal life I suppose,” Emma said firmly, almost believing it herself.

Killian’s mother had been human, rejected for simply being that by the pack that owned his father in a bond of blood. It was almost impossible to escape, far short of actual death, and Killian’s scepticism was written all over his face. He had been too young to remember the Werewolf Council’s sentence of death on his father if he had chosen to stay with his human mate, but Killian had heard the stories from his older brother. “Emma…” he offered softly, stepping towards her and taking her hands in his.

“Killian, this means we can be together,” she told him enthusiastically. “You can come home with me to deliver the news of Graham’s demise.” The smile on her face was innocent and childlike, something Killian loved about her and her green eyes shone with a sparkle he saw every time she was so optimistic. “It would be the start of change,” she beamed passionately.

If only.

Before Killian had time to answer, he heard the whirr of an alarm from the street below. His apartment was on the second floor, so it was easy to recognise the loud, high pitched pips as that of his car alarm. With an apologetic twitch of his lips, he dropped her hands and headed to the window. Emma followed him, pressing herself to his back as he peered out of the curtains.

“Son of a bitch!” he barked, spinning on his heels and heading for the door. He grabbed the doorknob quickly, pulling the wood from the hole and letting it hit the wall behind with a thud. He took off, barely slipping his boots on in his haste, leaving the door open in his wake.

“Killian! Wait!” Emma called, but he was gone. When she turned to look out at what he had seen, there were two men, most likely Were from the smell that was coming through the window, with baseball bats in hands and gleeful grins plastered over their faces. They were smashing the classic Ford, one after the other taking it in turns to render the car absolutely worthless by ridding it of every single light, mirror and last bit of trim.

Emma rushed from the apartment after Killian, the feeling of dread in her gut too much to ignore. This didn’t feel right. It felt staged, too planned, and as Killian burst through the doors and onto the street, the two wolves stopped their assault on his car and turned their attention to him. Emma ran out after him, colliding into him as he held her back.

“Stay back, Emma,” he warned, holding her behind him as his eyes flickered between the two wolves in front of him. One of them sidestepped, widening the gap between them and began tapping the wooden bat into his palm. The other ran his tongue over the point of his canines as he approached from the other side, their maneuver clear to both of them. They were trying to cut them off, leave them with nowhere to go. Their intentions were as clear as day.

Killian stepped back, pushing Emma as he moved, holding out a shaking hand between them and the two advancing wolves. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck and disappear into his shirt, the hairs on his skin standing to attention as the adrenaline surged through his body.

“We can take them,” Emma whispered gruffly into the back of his ear, her fingernails digging into his biceps tensely.

“We’re outnumbered,” Killian told her, moving his gaze to the opposite building, where two more burly looking werewolves emerged from the lobby doors, fists clenched and jaws closed tightly. He took another step backward, trying to shield Emma from them as he did so, and inched his way to the alley at the side of the building.

“We can’t run.” Emma looked behind her, the end of the alleyway in sight, but blocked by a chain link fence that stretched between the buildings.

“No, we can’t,” Killian agreed with her as they entered the entrance to the alley and the stench of rotting rubbish invaded their nostrils. Killian’s fist closed at his side and he snorted through his nose, his anger and need to protect Emma pinking the tips of his ears and making his heart pound. “But you can,” he told her firmly, nudging his head towards the end of the alleyway.

“What? No!” Emma protested, but before she could say anything more, Killian was pushing her backwards and lunging forward for the wolves, who had entered the space between the buildings. 

“Emma! Run!” Killian screamed as he ran towards their would-be attackers. The gap was narrow and they bottlenecked a little, unable to swing their bats as they had probably hoped and Killian landed a punch to one of their noses with a sickening crack. Blood poured from the wolf’s nostrils, staining the front of his jacket and eliciting a furious growl as he clutched his face in pain, stumbling back into one of his comrades who simply tossed him aside like dead weight.

Emma took heed, rushing towards the fence as fast as her legs would carry her in human form, and launched herself against the cold, metal crisscross panel. It gave a little under her weight, curving outward and she hung on tightly as it swayed around loosely. Finally, it stabilized and she scaled the fence with ease, clambering up and over the top, spinning to face the other end of the alley from the safety of the other side.

Killian was giving his all, grabbing a larger werewolf previously referred to as Rufio, by the lapels of his jacket and smashing his forehead into its mouth. Teeth broke skin as the wolf bit his tongue and cried out, staggering a little until Killian pulled him harder towards him and delivered a headbutt that knocked him clean out. One of the newly arrived wolves grabbed Killian’s shoulders, pulling him off the unconscious Rufio and sending a balled fist into his stomach. Emma cried out when Killian doubled over with a silent gasp.

All of the air left Killian’s lungs, expelled with a strike to his diaphragm, and his eyes glazed over for a second. Time seemed to stand still, and he watched with blurred vision as the cut on his forehead dripped onto the ground in front of him, staining the concrete red with each drop. Finally, he felt like he could breathe again and stood just as the fourth wolf hooked his arms into his and secured them behind him, holding Killian still for more punches.

“Killian!” Emma cried out, gripping the chain link fence in frustration. “Leave him!” she screamed at the wolves, her pleas falling on deaf ears as the back of a closed fist made contact with Killian’s face. 

Killian went limp, relaxing into the attack but felt the sting of skin splitting and tasted the tang of blood on his tongue. He lifted his head, a red welt forming under his left eye as it slowly swelled shut, and spat a mouthful of blood into his attacker’s face. He grinned a blood stained smile when the third wolf, Felix, winced away, the spray of droplets coating his face, but it only served to anger him further and the Were shifted his weight, lifted a leg and planted a firm, flat foot right into Killian’s solar plexus.

Killian’s entire body felt stretched beyond control, fighting to curl up against the hold of the wolf behind him. His lungs stung and he could tell every rib down one side was shattered from the impact of the boot, the splinters of bone in his chest aggravating his laboured breathing even more. He gritted his teeth, blood-filled spittle dribbling from his lower lip as he finally gave in to his pain, knowing Emma was safe.

“Enough,” a voice said from behind his assailants and Killian was dropped to the floor. He barely managed to break his fall with one outstretched hand before he collapsed onto the cold, harsh pavement with a gurgling noise from the back of his throat. Killian blinked, trying to clear his vision, and he saw the two still conscious wolves step aside to make way for a fifth.

This wolf was tall, lean and not a fighter. He clearly had bigger wolves do his bidding, but Killian recognised his scent from years ago. He knew this wolf, they had clashed before, only this time Killian was not lucky enough to have found the wolf alone. This time he was the one alone. The searing pain in his spine, the grinding of bones in his torso and the copper taste in his mouth attested to that. Killian couldn’t move, both his fight and flight responses paralysed by pain, at the total mercy of wolf number five.

“Tut, tut, tut,” Walsh enounced slowly, dropping to a squat in front of Killian. He reached out, grabbing Killian’s hair and wrenching his head up and off the pavement until he was choking on the blood that had pooled in his throat. “Do you remember me?” He asked Killian who rolled his eyes away guiltily. “Of course you do,” Walsh said sadistically, reaching up to claw at the scar on his neck with one hand whilst he tightened his grip on Killian’s hair with the other.

Killian spluttered, more blood leaving his mouth as he tried to cast a look to the fence at the end of the alley. Walsh followed his gaze, an evil smile spreading over his lips as Emma recognised him and pale faced with shock, took off down the opposing alley. “Don’t worry,” Walsh told him, looking him over with disgust and then dropping his head again, Killian’s face colliding with the concrete and another gash opening up on his cheek. “Emma will come for you,” he smirked, patting Killian’s cheek before pushing himself to his feet. “I’m counting on it.”

\--

Emma ran. Emma ran as fast as her legs could carry her, out of the alley and into the street running behind Killian’s apartment building. Her adrenaline was coursing through every fibre of her being and she panted with each breath she gulped down, the air invading her lungs and burning at the organs in her chest. Killian had told her to run and she had to fight every nerve-ending she had to obey, her devotion to him setting her body into a panic of the unknown, her brain fighting with her legs with each step she took.

The wind rushed past her ears, arms dragging against the side of her torso as she sprinted. She knew where she was going. Sort of. The lingering scent of Graham wafted through the air, the strong, masculine aftershave he always wore having no effect at masking his musk. Emma threw her head back, inhaling hard when she came to a cross in the road and discovered that his scent faded away to the right. He had gone left and as Emma’s nose twitched to confirm her suspicions, the smell of cedar and bergamot flooded her senses.

The only sound Emma could hear was the rush of her own blood in her ears. Her heart pounded, throbbing behind her eardrum at every beat, rendering her sensitive wolf hearing almost useless to her. Emma’s footprints made no sound as she ran, her feet slapping the pavement with only the sensation of her lower legs shuddering with the impact. A fine layer of sweat began to form behind her ear, showing her exertion and wetting the back of her hairline, a few beads rolling down the column of her neck.

Emma had never been so panicked, so struck by not knowing what was happening to Killian. Walsh was a sadist, even more than your average wolf, and her heart ached at the thought of Killian’s fate. They were in Walsh’s territory without even realising it. His domain. He knew every way to extract what he wanted from Killian on order to get to her. It was her he wanted after all, and she knew why.

Emma had felt it for days, the steady buzz under her skin increasing tenfold, the sound of a pin dropping ten times louder than before. She could track a scent far more accurately, the taste buds on her tongue able to process a thousand flavors much quicker than before. She became in tune with nature, yearning to run more often than before, her human self fading into the background. She became at one with the wolf inside of her. It happened once every year and would explain her insatiable sexual appetite for Killian.

Emma had her wolf heat. Killian had said he could smell it coming, he was just wrong about which form.

It wasn’t like a human period. It was far more intense, far more personal, the wolf clawing at the inside of her skin each time she was around him. More often than not, a she-wolf did not have her wolf heat until a suitable mate presented itself, the hormonal reactions invading her body giving her the clearest signal. In human form, and not in heat, Emma would never get pregnant. She was free to fornicate as many times as she wanted with as many wolves or humans as she wanted. Only she didn’t want them. She wanted Killian.

He had been the one to unlock her wolf heat, creating the surge of need inside of her that could only be sated by him. Her body was preparing for breeding, the shift of organs and imbalance of hormones sending her into a daze. It was another seal to their bond, another thread of connection they shared so intrinsically she was sure she could feel the pain he was going through right now. She clutched at her chest, bunching the material of her shirt in her hands and groaning low in her throat. She couldn’t leave him, she wouldn’t, and as the concrete under her feet turned to the dusty, dark red dirt of a farmyard track, she felt relief.

“Graham!” she called out, her voice tiny and desperate despite its volume. “Graham, help!” Emma made her way to the top of the track, her feet kicking up dust as she spun on her heels, trying to pick up the faintest scent of Graham in the wind. Her nostrils were filled with so many smells, of the horses and the feed, the oil from farmyard engines and the faraway remnants of leather, that she didn’t know which way to turn first.

“Graham!” She called out again, a shaky palm flattening over her forehead and pushing her hair back over her scalp. She searched the yard, unable to see the wolf who had left such a pungent odor all the way here, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “Please…” she whimpered, half to herself and half to anyone who might listen.

The creak of a door alerted her, and she spun away from the barn to face the house. The whitewashed wooden porch with chipping paint groaned under the weight of the man on top of it, his hands gripping the wobbly rails and his eyebrows knitting together in a frown when he laid eyes on her. “Emma?” he called softly, his brunette companion, Ruby, appearing behind him.

“Graham!” Emma cried, relief washing through her words as she hastily jogged towards the couple. “They have him!” She wailed, tears staining her face.

“Who?!” Graham shouted, his voice booming over her sobbing. He almost ran down the steps after an encouraging push from Ruby told him to, and she flew into his arms, her fingers linking together behind his back. Graham held her to him, the force of her impact spinning him around and he gave Ruby a confused look over Emma’s head. “Who has who? What happened?” he asked softly, trying to calm her sobs by running a hand up and down her back.

“Killian,” Emma managed, her breath catching in her throat. “Neverland,” she added on a hiccupped sob.

“Neverland?” Graham frowned, planting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her away from his body. He was much taller than she was, so he had to dip his head down to meet her gaze. “Emma, what does Neverland have to do with anything?” 

Emma swallowed hard, the stubborn lump sticking in her throat, not budging. She couldn’t breathe through her nose anymore and quickly wiped it on the oversized sleeve of Killian’s sweater she was wearing. “Walsh, that bastard…” she mumbled angrily, half to herself.

“Walsh?” Graham shook his head again, his hands jumping from her shoulder to hold her face in his hands. He wasn’t getting the answers he wanted; Emma was clearly distracted by her rage, so he forced her to look at him with a stern grip around her cheeks. “Emma, tell me,” he said slowly with an imploring gaze.

“Walsh,” Emma bit out, closing her eyes. “They came for us. We were ambushed,” she said, her lip trembling at the mere thought of her next words. “They have Killian.” She launched herself into Graham’s arms again, tightening her grip around him and accepting the comforting hand Ruby laid on her back as she joined them.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby interjected softly. “Did you say, Killian?”

Emma looked up from Graham’s chest, the hackles on her back raised defensively. She looked at Ruby, the beautiful, kind-faced human full of innocence and she suddenly realised what Graham saw in her. She was more than just stunning; she was angelic, everything from her hair to her words washing over Emma’s senses with a calming nature. She nodded, sniffing. “Yeah, Jones,” Emma clarified. Killian wasn’t a common name by any means, but she felt the need to just make sure Ruby meant her Killian.

“Oh my God,” Ruby gasped, her hand flying up and covering her mouth. “Graham, you have to help save him.”

“How do you know Killian?” Emma asked curtly, her eyes narrowing a little.

“We grew up together,” Ruby said matter of factly. 

“But you are human,” Emma blurted. 

“It hadn’t escaped my attention either,” Ruby said with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve known about werewolves my whole life. Killian and his brother Liam are my friends.” 

Graham looked between them, Ruby comforting the she-wolf he thought of as his little sister. Emma was overly emotional and he had never seen her like this before, the jealousy in her eyes instantly abated when Ruby gave her that smile he loved so much. Something about her was different, like she was finally relaxed and released of a tension she hadn’t even known she was under. He had felt the same way when he had met Ruby, even in wolf form he felt like he belonged and he would do anything to make sure she was safe. 

Werewolves rarely talked of love, but Graham knew it when he saw it. What else was powerful enough to render the strongest wolf he knew such a blubbering mess?

“Why would Walsh attack you?” Graham asked again, still trying to fathom the Neverland packs angle. Things had been good, almost amicable between Neverland and Misthaven, a far cry from the hostility James had once shown them. 

“I don’t know!” Emma screeched. “All I know is that he did, and now they have taken Killian!” Emma’s sobs began again and Graham sighed.

“Do you know where they would take him?” Graham asked Emma quickly, encouraging her to focus her rage. 

“I can’t lose him, Graham! I just found him!” Emma was shaking, her hands trembling as she nervously fidgeted with her hair again, tucking strands of blonde behind her ear which were already in place. 

“Emma, stop. Look at me,” Graham told her firmly, clutching her hands in his even tighter and making her look at him. “We’ll find him. I promise. Now, do you have any idea where they would go?” Finally, lip quivering, she shook her head. “That’s okay,” Graham told her softly. “We can track him.”

“And if he is hurt,” Ruby added tentatively, “I can help him.” 

Emma regarded her again, wondering just how it was possible that a human could know everything about werewolves, as Ruby seemed to, but also refrain from exposing them. It was against everything Emma had ever been taught by her father, by The Chronicle, and by her elders, and she was fighting really hard to show her appreciation and not her distrust.

“Now, where were you guys when the Neverland wolves attacked?” Graham prompted, quickly checking the time on his watch. It was almost dusk and prime-tracking time, so if they could make their way back to the scene of the ambush, they could pick up a fresh scent. “How many were there?”

“Uh,” Emma stumbled, trying to remember. “Four. Five, including Walsh.” Her mind was still racing. “At Killian’s,” she said, looking at her feet in concentration. They were covered in mud, her shoes worn unevenly from running so fast, and one of her shoelaces had snapped at some point too. Graham looked up and met Ruby’s gaze.

“I know where it is,” she informed.

“Okay, let’s get going,” Graham said hurriedly, waving them both towards the truck. 

“Let me just get my bag,” Ruby told him, ushering Emma into his arms and rushing back into the house. Graham helped Emma to his truck and she melted into the covering of the seat, the exhilaration of her dismay having settled. She covered her face with her hands, emotion overwhelming her once more and Graham simply watched her cry through the tinted windows of his truck.

“This could be bad,” Ruby called from behind him, letting the spring door of the porch close behind her with a wooden slapping noise. She emerged with a huge duffel bag slung over one shoulder, waddling down the steps awkwardly because of her huge pregnant belly. Graham met her halfway, releasing her of her burden and giving her a sad nod.

“Walsh is bad news. Neverland has been biding their time for decades,” he told her. “Their alpha, James, is Emma’s uncle. This has to be something to do with Emma.” Graham looked over to the truck once more, the blonde in the backseat struggling to compose herself.

“You think?” Ruby asked softly, following his gaze.

“Absolutely. James always thought he was the rightful heir of Misthaven and has been even more bitter since Emma’s birth. Her being born meant he would never hold the crown, so to speak, and it hasn’t gone down too well with James who was always under the impression his brother and wife could never reproduce.” Ruby followed his story with a nod, encouraging him to continue. “Emma has her wolf heat,” Graham admitted, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can smell it.”

“Creepy,” Ruby teased, poking him in the bicep.

“I’m just saying, if I can smell it, so can Walsh,” Graham told her. “It does crazy things to less stable wolves. God only knows what James has planned. We have to be careful,” Graham told her seriously, his hand gravitating to her protruding stomach. “You don’t have to come, you know.”

“I know.” Ruby graced him with her trademark smile. “But you can’t stop me. Killian is my friend too. I’ve been patching him up for as long as I can remember.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and covered his hand with hers. “He’s the reason I became a vet.”

Graham snorted a laugh through his nose. “To patch up your werewolf friends?”

“And to run a few over,” she laughed, biting her tongue between her teeth. 

Graham rolled his eyes and moved towards the truck. “I’m never living that down, am I?” Ruby shook her head and followed him, her toes curling in her flat shoes to stop them slipping from her feet. When they reached the truck, they paused, each with their hand on the handles, giving each other a last, fleeting smile over the vehicle hood.

“You know this is a trap, right?” Ruby said seriously, her voice losing its playful tone, and her pale face losing its smile.

“It’s definitely a trap,” Graham told her firmly. “But as long as we have the upper hand…”

“Don’t you mean paw?” Ruby winked, pulling the truck handle until the mechanism creaked and sprung open.

“Humans,” Graham sighed dramatically, pulling his own door open and sinking into the well worn driver’s seat. 

\-- 

The drive back to Killian’s apartment was quicker than Emma thought, considering it had taken her three times as long to run to the farm as it had taken Graham to drive back. The entire time, she had felt sick with anguish, her head resting against the cold glass window and bouncing against the pane everytime the truck hit a pothole. She was numb to the bump appearing on her forehead, staring blankly out of the window until she perked up when Killian’s car came into view.

Graham pulled up in front of it, Ruby’s gasp of horror shaking Emma from her daze. They all jumped out of the truck and Ruby rushed to the car, running her hand over the dented body work with a forlorn expression. “What happened to his car?” She asked, snatching her hand back when a piece of the bodywork fell off at her feet.

“It’s how they got us out of the building,” Emma recalled. “Killian loves his car.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ruby sighed. “We worked on it together. He’s had it since we were kids.” The look of sadness on Ruby’s face was as much as Graham could take, and he moved to her side, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the wreckage.

“Where did you see Killian last?” he asked Emma and she motioned to the alley between the buildings.

“Over here,” she motioned with a wave, rushing to the narrow passage, but stopping dead and gasping in horror. 

There was blood everywhere. It was low in volume, survivable, but it had been splattered all over the walls, dumpsters and broken crates that littered the alleyway. Ruby covered her mouth with a hand, muffling her gasp and turned away, burying her face in Graham’s shoulder. He held her tight, his heart splitting in two for Emma who simply stared at the scene before her, paralysed.

“He’s okay,” he soothed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not enough for…”

“I know,” Emma interrupted him, swallowing hard. Her eyes followed a line of blood out of the alleyway where she had fled before, the chain link fence now cut in half and peeled back revealing a fabricated doorway. It was an invitation, Killian’s blood the breadcrumbs that she had to follow. “It’s a trail. They want me to find him.”

“And where would _they_ be?” Ruby asked, fixing her gaze on Graham’s; she didn’t have to see the carnage behind her. Graham shifted his hold on her and pulled out his phone, swiping the device open and tapping at the screen. “What are you doing?” Ruby blinked in disbelief.

“Checking maps,” Graham told her with a shrug, and Emma was at his side in an instant. “There has to be some woodland or an abandoned building nearby. They can’t have gone far.” Ruby stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “What? We are wolves, darling, not dinosaurs.”

“There,” Emma announced, pointing to a patch of woodland in the upper north east part of the screen. She pinched at the phone screen, spreading her fingers apart and zooming in on a clearing in the center of a patch of trees. Emma didn’t know how, but she just knew that was where Walsh had taken him.

“How do you-” Ruby began, but Emma cut her off.

“I just know,” she said firmly, committing the directions to memory. “Let’s go.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know a lot of people are going to angry with me for firstly, leaving the last chapter on a cliffhanger, and then secondly, posting another flashback chapter immediately afterward. But, this chapter is so important, so suck it up and read it :D

_A decade ago_

Liam Jones was too young to become a parent, or so he had thought, but the second his mother’s hand had gone limp in his and her last breath had left her mortal body, he knew his life had changed forever. He was twenty-two, barely an adult himself, and he was now in charge of his younger brother. Killian was just sixteen, not yet legally an adult, so Liam had stood in a solicitor's office and signed a single sheet of paper whilst an overweight, middle-aged man explained what he was signing.

In the absence of any remaining family, he was Killian’s new guardian.

In truth, he would not have had it any other way. His brother was just like their mother - a hopelessly romantic empath whose world crumbled when she had died. It wasn’t quick, nor painless, and both of the brothers had watched her slip from reality, fading away to nothing more than a grey shadow before their very eyes. Liam was older, stronger and had coped with the loss of a relative before - he was young, but he remembered his grandfather’s funeral. Killian, however, was not equipped to deal with the emotions he was feeling.

One doctor had called him delicate. Another had called him explosive. Liam had learned quickly that even if he had been a sixteen-year-old boy himself, he had never been a sixteen-year-old boy who had lost his world. Killian was angry, at everything, and only six years into his werewolf change. He had shifted and remained in wolf form for eight days. Liam had covered for him, telling his school he was under the weather, but he knew nothing but time would heal his wounds. And so he let him remain a wolf, curled up into a tight cat-like ball on the couch, fur greasy from where he had been comforting him with tender strokes and his heart breaking at each whimper his brother had emitted.

Liam understood the appeal of wolf form for Killian. It was where his brother felt safest, strongest and able to take on anything that came at him. He had been like that ever since his first change, obsessed with his wolf form, shifting whenever he could to escape humanity. Liam was the opposite, choosing to live as human a life as possible because even though their mother had always told them it was okay to be a werewolf, society would never accept them as such. Humanity would never know of their existence, and the Werewolf council would always make sure they didn’t exist, so what was the point of trying to belong where you were not welcome?

The funeral came and went, and for months afterward their little village was alive with rumours of a black wolf roaming the graveyard at night. Some villagers put it down to the caretaker having too much to drink, but Liam knew that if he had checked Killian’s bed at night, he would have only found a pile of discarded clothes. If Killian needed to sit on their mother’s grave until the wee hours, whining at her loss and howling at the moon, Liam would not stop him. 

Even in human form, Killian tried to remain as close as possible to his mother’s memory. She had taught him how to play piano, her proudest achievement, but Killian’s selections shifted from jolly tunes to pieces of a darker nature, the tinkering of the high notes replaced by the low vibrating boom that reflected his feelings. Liam let him play whatever he wanted to, compose whatever he wished, even if he would often find him slumped over the ivories bawling his eyes out at the end of each session.

He endured nearly two years, until one day, before his eighteenth birthday, Killian surprised him with a proposition that wasn’t totally out of the realms of possibility.

“America?” Liam asked with a snort, the milk from his cereal spoon dribbling down his chin as it escaped his mouth. 

“Aye, America,” Killian repeated eagerly with a nod. 

“And why would we want to go to America?” Liam asked his brother, his eyebrow raised and the back of his hand catching more wayward milk.

Killian shrugged the way most teenagers do when they do not want to divulge all the facts. “It will be an adventure,” he smiled. He dipped his own spoon into his bowl, the metal clattering against the edge of the porcelain, and scooped up a spoonful of golden flakes swimming in milk. 

“But why America?” Liam pried, watching his brother intently. Killian had never mentioned America before, apart from a teenage obsession with Ford Mustangs and a large dog-eared poster hanging proudly on his bedroom wall. “Plenty of other places to create mischief.”

“It’s far away,” Killian said softly, his words muffled by his chewing and his eyes fixed on his spoon. He gripped the implement awkwardly, tapping the side of the bowl with a sigh. “I can’t stay here, Liam. In this house, without her. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Liam soothed, stopping his brother’s emotional ramble.

“It’s not okay,” Killian told him firmly, letting his spoon slide out of his hand and slip against the side of the bowl. “I can’t wake up in this house one more day without seeing her face, or hearing her voice, Liam. I can’t.”

Liam sighed sadly, fingers toying with the edge of his own breakfast bowl as he watched his brother began to fall apart once more. He had suspected Killian was hiding his sadness, forcing a brave face for the rest of the world, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Killian snapped. He had expected more rage, more things being thrown or smashing doors, but Killian was at the bottom of broken, and more childlike than Liam had ever seen him.

“Why have you been pretending, Killian? The last six months have been…” Liam began, offering his brother a chance to explain, which he couldn’t seem to contain.

“Hell,” Killian admitted, lifting his gaze. Their eyes locked across the table, no bigger than the seats they were perched on and Liam knew his brother was not exaggerating. “I’ve been trying to be the person the world wants me to be and I’m exhausted. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

“I miss her too, you know,” Liam said softly, dropping his gaze. “You can always talk to me, brother.”

“I know,” Killian said with a small smile. “I love you, Liam. Truly.”

Liam was taken back for a second. Killian had never told him he had loved him before, even if Liam knew it. They were brothers, bonded by more than just blood, and now all they had was each other. “I love you too, little brother,” Liam smirked, knowing how irritated his brother became when he teased him.

“Younger,” Killian scowled, his lips twitching to avoid a playful smirk.

“Younger,” Liam agreed amicably, reaching across the table and ruffling his fingers through Killian’s lengthening, black hair. He was still a boy essentially, the faintest sprouting of facial hair threatening to grow on his jawline, and sometimes Liam found it hard to treat him as the man he was becoming. “So, tell me, honestly, why America?”

“Father is in America,” Killian said suddenly, swiping a hand through his cheek-length fringe and parting it to one side so he could see his brother’s shocked expression. 

Liam frowned and tilted his head. “How do you know?”

“The dark web,” Killian admitted without falter. He wouldn’t lie to his brother; they had been through so much and Liam would find out anyway.

“Killy,” Liam warned.

“I know, it’s dangerous and I shouldn’t have, but I paid a guy to find all of the Brennan Jones’ who lived in America and…”

“Wait, with what?” Liam blinked, his voice an octave higher.

Killian’s cheeks pinked under his brothers gaze. “I sold _Milah._ ”

Just before their mother had been diagnosed, Killian had pestered her for the weeks leading up until his fifteenth birthday with the request for a motorbike. He promised not to ride it until he was sixteen and wanted to learn how it worked before he got his license so he could fix it if anything needed repairing. She had said no, but unbeknownst to him, Liam had already procured him the bike, hid it away in a neighbour’s garage and had been playing along with his mother’s ruse. 

On his big day, Killian had been handed a small package, which contained just a pair of socks, some new sheet music for his piano and lastly a replica model of the bike he had really wanted. With a disappointed smile, Killian had thanked his mother and hugged her tight, knowing she really didn’t have the means to fulfill his dreams anyway. It wasn’t until later that day when she had sent him to the neighbour’s to fetch a parcel they had been holding, when he realised what she had done.

Killian doted on his bike about as much as he doted on his mother, constantly tinkering with it, tuning it and modifying it for when he could finally ride her. He named her _Milah_ , a name he didn’t really know but found himself attracted to all the same. For a whole year, he tended to _Milah’s_ every need, changing her oil and washing her fairings so often Killian’s mother warned him he would wash away the paintwork, until he turned sixteen and got his license.

 _Milah_ still had the bobbles on her tires when Killian finally hit the road, taking a few laps around their little village, to the annoyance of a few of the more elderly residents, but his joy was short lived. Less than two months after his sixteenth birthday, and shattering his very existence, Killian was told of his mother’s illness after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. She had known she was ill for some time but had neglected to tell her boys, protecting them from the truth until she could no longer.

She was dying. Cancer. Killian put _Milah_ into storage and focused all of his attention to caring for his mother.

“You sold your bike?” Liam gasped, trying to fathom what his brother had said.

“Aye,” Killian nodded.

“But she meant so much to you,” Liam blinked at his brother. “Why would you sell it to pay a man you do not know to find our father?”

“Because mother asked us to find him,” Killian frowned. Liam rolled his eyes in agreement. Of course, Killian was right. “And guess what?” Killian rearranged himself on his chair, leaned forward and pushed his half eaten cereal aside with the back of his hand.

“Go on,” Liam asked, only slight annoyance in his tone.

“Guess how many Brennan Jones’ live in America?” Killian smirked, running his tongue over the ridge of his teeth. 

Liam narrowed his eyes at his brother, mirroring his know it all grin. “How many?”

“One,” Killian grinned excitedly. 

“Well then, brother,” Liam inhaled hard, standing from the table and tugging up the waistband of his jeans. “Best start packing. We’re going to America.”

\--

Two weeks had passed since the brothers Jones has set foot on American soil. They had arranged to stay with a childhood friend, Ruby Lucas, who had persuaded her father that the two strange British men who had shown up at their farm late one night were actually known to her. Ruby had gone to school in England, a boarding school near to where the Jones boys grew up, and when she had returned stateside, they had always kept in touch. Liam had reached out to her, knowing she would never deny his request of shelter and knowing her semi-secluded farmhouse home was perfect for a pining werewolf like Killian.

Ruby’s father, a widower, was ailing so in an attempt not to disrupt his life too much, Liam had suggested he and Kilian stay in one of the outbuildings away from the main house whilst they looked for a home in the city. They didn’t have anything but the clothes on their back and their life savings, but they had enough and it wasn’t long before Liam found work as a mechanic. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it gave him the opportunity to save a little.

Ruby’s father, known only to him as Nemo - though Killian suspected that wasn’t his real name - a now elderly gentleman, took a shine to Killian immediately. He had heard stories from his daughter, and whilst he was sure she was in love with at least one of the Jones brothers, he preferred the younger one, Killian. Nemo often said how he reminded him of himself, a young and carefree gent with a depth that would set the most confident women adrift. If only the old man had known about werewolves, he would have realised how right he was.

On Killian’s nineteenth birthday and a year after they had reached America, the brothers were still living on the farm. Liam was a mechanic by day and attended night school whilst Killian helped out around the farm due to Ruby’s father’s age. Nemo was fragile, his grey hair long since turned yellow and a half chewed cigar always in between his chubby little fingers. He always told Killian that they were Cuban, but his little smirk afterward told Killian otherwise.

“Cuban, you say?” Killian smirked back, pulling the last knots out of the mane of the mare he was grooming.

“Always,” Nemo declared, leaning against the stable door as he watched Killian groom the horse in front of him. “I picked up many on my travels.” He decided to finish his daily pleasure and stubbed out the quarter length cigar on the stable door, careful not to knock off the cherry tip and set the whole place ablaze.

Killian snorted a little and dodged a flick of the horse’s tail. “Ruby says you’ve never left the farm.”

“My boy, I’ve sailed a hundred seas a thousand times over.” Nemo caught Killian’s eye, his eyebrow raised high up on his brow and the horse between them let out a low, rumbling sound followed by a whinny.

“She says you haven’t.” Killian nodded at him and motioned to the horse, resuming his long brush strokes through her brittle mane. The horse’s skin twitched where his hands touched her, but she was relaxed, a hoof resting upon its curve edge and her head hanging low. “And I believe her.”

Nemo laughed this time and the rattle of a hacking cough sounded through the barn. Killian paused his grooming, but Nemo waved him away with a hand, covering his mouth with the other as he coughed more violently than his body could take. Killian has seen this kind of coughing before, from his mother, but as much as he had come to love Nemo, he knew the man would never talk about his ailments.

“I have lived a long time,” Nemo panted, catching his breath. “And I have never seen a man and a horse have such a rapport.” Killian gave him a soft smile, his hand following the brush as he moved onto the horse’s coat. She was shedding for the summer, soft, fluffy clumps of hair coming loose in his hands and falling to the stable floor below. “She likes you.”

“She reminds me of my mother,” Killian said softly. It was the first time he had mentioned his mother to anyone other than Liam and for the first time, it didn’t feel lonely or sad to talk of her. He felt warm, her memory like a comfort in his mind. “She has a gentle soul,” Killian added idly, running his hand down the velvet soft hair on the horse’s long face.

Nemo nodded in agreement, shifting his weight so he was more comfortably balanced on his other hip. “Do you ride?”

“No, sir,” Killian snorted, stifling a laugh. “I grew up in a city, so the closest thing to a horse I’ve ever ridden was my motorbike.” A smile played across his lips at the memory of _Milah_ and the hours he had spent tuning every piston, wire, and baffle before he was finally able to ride her. His smile faded and he sidestepped so he could reach the horse’s rump. “I sold her to come to America.”

“Oh, it was a lady?” Nemo teased, giving Killian a sly grin. Killian blushed and nodded. “They always are,” Nemo told him with a knowing wave of his hand.

“My mother bought her for me before I could ever legally ride. I spent hours getting to know her, making sure I could get the best performance out of her, learning what made her purr.” Killian smirked.

“As you should with any woman,” Nemo winked and let out a laugh, short-lived because of another hacking cough he could not recover from.

Killian dropped the brush in his hand and immediately moved beside his friend, offering him his arm as he led him to a small milking stool nearby. The old man sunk down onto the rounded seat, hand clutching Killian’s shirt in his feeble fingers whilst trying to wave him away at the same time. Killian fetched his bottle of water nearby and offered it to Nemo, telling him to sip.

“Are you alright? Should I get Ruby?” Killian wasn’t sure how to help the old man, apart from offering to fetch his daughter, who, as a trainee veterinarian, was more than capable of tending to his needs.

“Don't you dare,” Nemo rasped, glaring and sucking in a deep breath, the redness dissipating from his cheeks. He leaned back against the closed stable door behind him and emitted a heavy sigh. Killian knew his time was limited, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, so instead, he was simply there for the elderly man, holding him upright as he caught his breath.

“Can I do anything?” Killian asked gently, the almost see-through skin on Nemo’s hands white and ghostly as it rested in his. Nemo shook his head, breathing as deeply in and out as his failing lungs would allow. “Do you want to head back to the house?” Killian suggested. “I can finish up here.”

“How about we head out to the grey barn instead?” Nemo said between gasps. Killian looked at him with a frown. “There is something I have to show you.”

The grey barn was near the very back of the property, two buildings over from where Liam and Killian had been staying. The door was locked and to Killian’s knowledge, it always had been. Until now, neither Nemo or Ruby had ever mentioned it, or what was inside, and Killian’s interest was piqued as he helped the old man across the knee length grass field that surrounded it. Crickets chirped, jumping from the grass stems as they were disturbed by the two men, Nemo hunched over as he rattled a bunch of keys between his arthritic fingers.

“It’s one of these,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and clicking his tongue behind his oversized dentures.

“Here, let me,” Killian offered, holding out his hand to the old man. Nemo smiled warmly, handing him the bunch of keys. Most of them were rusted and so old they had been worn smooth and Killian eyed them hopelessly. 

 

“It’s a long, flat one,” Nemo told him firmly, pointing to the keys. “Ruby insisted on a more modern padlock, so it looks newer than the others.”

Killian looked down at the keys in his hand and scanned them quickly, not immediately seeing what he was supposed to be seeing. They were all orange, oxidized by years of exposure, so he began running his hands over them, feeling for the roughest one. When Killian thought he had found one that felt newly rusted, he held it up for Nemo who nodded.

“That’s the one,” he rasped, coughing to clear his throat. The old man waved a finger at the huge, round padlock which was equally as rusted, and gave Killian an encouraging nod. “Behind this door is something very dear to me, something that I have neglected ever since my wife passed away.”

“What is it?” Killian asked eagerly, wiggling the key into the lock and trying to turn the rusted mechanism.

“You’ll see,” Nemo grinned. The lock in Killian’s hand clicked open, the tumbler finally falling into place and he slipped the metal loop free from the latch. 

The doors were heavier than any of the other barns Killian had entered, so after handing Nemo back his keys, he put all of his weight behind pushing the faded, wooden doors open. The bottom of one scraped across the ground, dust dancing in the sunlight that flooded into the barn as the door creaked open. Killian’s boots scruffed the ground as he sought to find his footing and after a little effort, the door hinges balanced out the weight of the door and it finally opened freely.

Killian righted himself as the door swung beyond his reach, confused by the dusty, off-white tarp covering what was clearly some kind of vehicle in front of him. Nemo shuffled past him, the gentle clatter of disused tools sounding out overhead as a bird that had taken up residence in the upper rafters of the barn took flight, exiting through a broken window in the top of the apex roof.

“Now,” Nemo began, reaching the tarp and lifting it over the hood. Dirt and debris flew everywhere, and the old man flinched away from the particles of dust that threatened to make him cough again. “She might not look like much,” he continued, dragging the brittle covering back over the now exposed car windshield. “But she has all of the right parts in all the right places.” Nemo gave the tarp one last tug and it fell to the ground behind the car that was now bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Killian stepped towards the car, his heart all but stopping in his chest. It was the car of his dreams, he would recognise it anywhere, even covered in patches of rust and newly welded areas. It was a Mustang, a ‘67, the original blue paint long since chipped away, but still visible in places. The tires were all flat, but the wheels were original ten spoke rims, he could tell, and the bodywork was something he had only ever dreamed of seeing in person. 

Killian reached out, his hand nervously touching the cold, hard metalwork, his lips twitching into a content smile as he ran his hand over the length of the hood. It was broken, there was no doubt about it, but every spec of rust told a story and Killian could feel every single word the car was saying to him as he skimmed his fingertips up the windshield and over the solid roof. 

“This is a Shelby GT500,” Killian whispered, almost to himself as he noticed the rear quarter window scoops exclusive to that model.

“She is,” Nemo boasted proudly.

“With a 425 cubic inch big block V8?” Killian asked excitedly, his hands skimming back over the roof over the car. He paused on the driver’s door handle, the bubbles of rust poking through the chrome there.

“You know your cars,” Nemo noted with a smirk.

Killian let out an ecstatic laugh, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead. “I know _this_ car,” he said softly, still in shock. “It’s really a Shelby,” he all but giggled, looking up at Nemo with a juvenile grin. “I can’t believe I’m touching it.”

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Nemo smiled, watching the young man in front of him lavish his most prized possession with as much tenderness as he had done the first time he had seen her.

“She’s beautiful,” Killian breathed, unable to take his eyes off of the car.

“She’s yours if you want her,” Nemo told him casually.

“What?” Killian laughed nervously, head snapping up to meet the greyed eyes of Ruby’s dad.

“Just promise me one thing,” Nemo told him as he watched his own gnarled knuckles stroke the rear of the car. “You paint her dark blue when the time comes. With the dual over the top racing stripes.”

“Nemo, I can’t…” Killian began, his face paling.

“You can, Killian, and you will. Call it a birthday gift.” Nemo moved around the car, holding onto the body for support. “Ruby doesn’t want her, and we both know I am not long for this world. I want her to be cared for, lovingly restored to her former glory, not rotting away in a barn.” 

Killian felt his legs weaken. He was nineteen, barely old enough to know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but he knew that what Nemo was offering was the one thing he had always wanted. “I don’t know what to say,” Killian said honestly, holding out his hand to the elderly man at his side.

“Say thank you,” Nemo teased, nudging Killian’s ribs with his elbow. He fiddled with the bunch of keys again, managing to twist a single ignition key from the bundle and offered it to Killian.

“Thank you,” Killian grinned, a wide ear to ear smile that made his ears bob up at the side of his head. He took the key, squeezing it in his palm before pulling Nemo into a hug. It was the first time Killian had ever had a father figure other than Liam and it meant the world to him that Nemo trusted him with the car.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough sappy business,” Nemo said gruffly, pushing Killian away weakly. They both laughed and Killian inspected the key in his hand yet again. “Back to work now,” Nemo ordered gently. “Those horses won’t groom themselves.”

“Aye, Aye Captain!” Killian grinned and took off out of the barn as quick as his legs could carry him.

\--

Liam had always been a patient man, but over the last six months, Killian had really tested him. Ruby’s father Nemo had recently passed away and Liam had worried that it would affect Killian more than he would let on. However, after the funeral, Killian seemed just as happy, spending every free second he could with the car Nemo had gifted him. Liam wasn’t one for cars other than his job, but he knew what it meant to Killian and how, by restoring it, he would feel like he was honouring Nemo in the only way he could.

But he had spent too much time with it recently and Liam had decided to get his brother away from the farm and take him to the city. Ruby had some friends coming over to keep her company and if it were anything like last time, the sound of giggling women would keep him up all night, so he had planned a boys night out. He was twenty-five, approaching twenty-six, and Killian was still under twenty, so they would have limited options. 

Unless they went underground.

Liam had been focusing on the underground Werewolf scene since they had arrived in the States, intently listening out for any chatter relating to his father. Killian brought them this far, albeit by illegal means, but it seemed a lot of the werewolf community operated under the radar. Liam was sure they would never find their father unless they went a little rogue, exploring the darker parts of humanity where most werewolves seemed to reside. 

Liam had found a poker match, no limit Texas hold ’em, and he had managed to get two seats for them at the table. It would be full of werewolves, from all different packs and loners were invited too as long as no one found out they were mongrels. Liam hoped they could keep their heads down, maybe win some cash and find someone who knew their father. Or they would, if Killian ever finished styling his hair.

“Come on, Killian!” Liam barked, feet crossed at his ankles as he leaned against Ruby’s car. Liam flicked his wrist, checking his watch for the time and heaved a sigh. “Killian!”

“Alright!” Killian shouted, exiting the barn they called home, in a flash. He tugged his jacket over his arms, popping the collar on his shirt as he reached the car. Liam gave him an incredulous look and a twisted smirk. “What?”

“Out to impress are we?” Liam teased.

“You never know,” Killian told him with a wink. “I might have to seduce a lass to get information about father.”

“I highly doubt that,” Liam snorted, pulling the door of the car open and sinking into the driver’s seat. Killian got in the other side and gave his a brother a cocky smirk. “Alright, Casanova, let’s go.”

The alleyway behind the human nightclub was the perfect cover for an underground poker game, even if a little cliched. The bass from the music inside pounded so loudly it practically vibrated through their bodies as they made their way to the back door, the smell of alcohol-laced vomit and discarded food rife in the air. Killian scrunched his nose at the smell, but Liam ignored it, far more interested in the size of the doorman.

“Names?” The guard barked gruffly, eyes narrowing at the two younger faces in front of him.

“Barrie,” Liam said in a deep tone, peering down at the page. “B-A-R-R-I-E.”

The doorman ran his finger down the edge of the page, stopping when he noticed two identical surnames, one after the other. “Okay,” he said curtly. “Buy in is five grand a piece in mixed bills. We don’t have change.” He leaned behind himself and pushed open the door, the echoing thud of the bass tripling in volume as it spewed out of the club. “Down the steps, first door on the right. Password is Pan.” The guard pointed a fat finger down the corridor beyond the door and nudged his head sideways. “Good luck, boys.”

“We won’t need it,” Killian smiled as he breezed past the doorman. “But thanks anyway.”

When they finally made it to the room, it was far from what Killian had expected. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to see, but years of American gangster movies had clearly set him up for disappointment. There were two tables, each seating eight wolves, one already full and a game in progress. Killian could smell they were all Were and in unison, six pairs of eyes turned and watched them approach the other table.

“About time,” one of the wolves snapped. He was slouched in his seat and had beady eyes and a bird like face, long with a pointed nose. He was clearly impatient, glaring at the youngest Jones brother with a cold, hard stare as Liam and Killian claimed their seats. “Bit young, ain't we pup?”

“No age rules,” the dealer spat, exchanging their money for chips. “Money is money, Walsh. You know that.” He sifted smaller bundles of cash onto the tray of a machine that whirred to life and flicked the notes into a small pile, automatically counting them as it did. When the bald headed dealer was happy, he slid each brother a pile of chips of various colours and denominations.

“No matter,” Walsh quipped, sitting upright in his chair. He laced his fingers together, pushing his hands out and cracking his knuckles. “You’ll be easier to beat. No hard feelings.”

Killian simply smirked. Nemo, God rest his soul, had been a lot of things during his time on this earth, and good at poker was one of them. Killian was a natural, learning the ways of the game quickly and then focusing his energy on noticing tells. “We’ll see,” he grinned at Walsh, the fair skinned wolf opposite him grumbling to his associate.

One by one, wolves dropped from the game and after several hours, many hours into the morning, the only two wolves left at the table were Killian and Walsh. Walsh had the upper hand with a larger pot, thirty grand to Killian’s measly ten. They had gone back and forth, each taking the lead, chips changing hands to and fro until Walsh finally had the advantage.

The dealer shuffled the cards, and Killian leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting on the plush, green table covering. Liam was at his side, out of the game but watching the scene unfold before him, hoping beyond all hope that his brother would not play the cocky hooligan any longer. Killian had managed to keep them in the game, and Liam had mingled with a few wolves at the bar, name dropping their father, but so far nothing had emerged. They couldn’t leave ten grand out of pocket, so Liam had returned to the table for the final hand, nervous and eyes fixed on the dealer as he shuffled the deck.

The buy in was up to five thousand and as the dealer slid two cards his way, Killian let out an exaggerated sigh. He was tiring, he knew it and so did Walsh, but his opponent was also running out of energy. Killian lifted the two cards, barely enough to see, and spied his hand; a ten of hearts and a five of spades. He let the cards slap back on the table and lifted his gaze to Walsh who was shuffling two stacks of chips into each other in a show of dominance.

“Ready to fold, young pup?” He said with a sadistic smirk. “You can’t beat what I’ve got.” Walsh motioned to his cards, his face betraying him. Killian had already worked out his tell, so he knew Walsh had a good hand. Maybe two face cards, maybe an ace, but Killian had also worked out that if Walsh thought he couldn’t lose, he’d get sloppy. 

“Not this time,” Killian shook his head and pushed half of his remaining pot into the center of the table. Liam sighed, shooting his brother a panicked look that Killian ignored in favour of outstaring Walsh. “Pony up.”

The dealer gave Walsh a questioning glance and without hesitation, he threw a five grand chip into the pot. He slid the button back to its resting position in front of himself and then dealt out the flop - the first three cards - which came out as an ace of spades, ten of clubs and a five of diamonds. Killian refrained from smirking too obviously, casting a downward glance at his cards as he pretended to check them again, sitting back and watching the glee on Walsh’s face.

“Well now,” Walsh sneered. “How about that for interesting.” He gave a nod to the dealer and his face erupted in a darkly twisted grin. “All in.”

“Call,” Killian said without hesitation, eyes fixed on the wolf opposite him.

“What are you doing?!” Liam growled low, pulling his brother’s arm so he was able to whisper in his ear. “He clearly has at least one ace!”

“I know,” Killian murmured, watching Walsh’s revolting smirk grow wider.

“It’s so sad that I’ll only be winning an extra five grand at the end of this,” Walsh mused, sticking out his bottom lip as he picked up his cards and studied them again.

“Unless we make this even more interesting,” Killian told him, leaning forward and wrenching his arm from Liam’s grasp. 

“Go on,” Walsh’s eyes lit up and narrowed as he leaned forward, mirroring Killian’s stance.

Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to his Mustang, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger idly. The shine of the metal key glinted in the low lighting, and even through the smokey haze of the room, Killian could see Walsh grinning like a greedy child. “‘67 Mustang, Shelby GT500,” he clarified quickly. “Worth about twenty-five grand,” Killian said slowly, making sure Walsh was listening. He tossed the key into the middle of the table, and it bounced on the pile of chips already there. “How’s that for interesting?”

“Killian, don’t do this,” Liam implored his brother, watching the gollum like expression on Walsh’s face. The wolf was greedy, he could tell, and a darkness ran through him too. Killian ignored Liam’s pleas, raising an eyebrow at Walsh as he contemplated the offer in front of him.

“Alright,” Walsh said after a beat, nodding to the dealer who gathered all of the chips and the key into a pile in front of him. 

“Players will show their cards.” He pointed to the both of them and they turned over their hands at the same time. Liam’s face turned white when Walsh revealed an ace-ten, one club and one diamond, and when he noticed Killian’s ten-five, he buried his face in his hands.

“Good luck, pup,” Walsh laughed, oozing arrogance.

The dealer dealt a fourth card, the turn card, and it was an eight of diamonds. No help to either player. It kept them as they were, Walsh with the better hand and Killian with two pairs. Killian gulped nervously and Walsh ran his tongue over the point of his canine, rubbing his hands together. Statistically, he had won, Killian knew that. The only way Killian was going to beat Walsh now was if a five came up, but the chances were slim.

“What colour is my new car by the way?” Walsh taunted and Killian gave him a hooded stare. “Doesn’t matter,” Walsh shrugged, grinning like a mad man. “I’ll be spraying it red anyway.”

The dealer sighed and turned over the last card he had dealt, his mouth twitching into a small smile. He had been the dealer in this place for years, serving creeps like Walsh and his alpha James, so it was refreshing to see someone like Killian, a young nobody, come in and take him down a peg or two. “Five of clubs,” he smirked, extending an arm out to Killian. “Full house beats three of a kind. Barrie wins.”

“No!” Walsh growled, slamming a balled fist into the table.

“You won!” Liam exclaimed, not really believing the words spewing from his mouth. “You won!” he declared, jumping to his feet, hands on his head, mouth opened in a wide grin and eyes fixed on the forty thousand dollars being counted out in front of him. “You only bloody won!” he cackled, shaking Killian ecstatically.

Killian remained calm, letting his brother push him around in his excitement. He simply stared at Walsh across the table and his face was paled, void of any emotion except shock. Killian’s mouth twitched, pulling up at the corners into a tight lipped smile as the dealer handed him his winnings. He palmed the key, gripping it tightly and saying a silent prayer to whoever had watched over him, and a silent apology to Nemo before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Killian stood, offering the dealer his hand and giving the man a tip for his trouble. It was late, the game had overrun some, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be compensated any other way. It wasn’t like an underground card dealer got paid a decent wage. 

Liam was still celebrating, handing his brother a beer he had quickly acquired from the bar and tapping the neck of the bottle with his own. Both brothers took a long swig of their beer, the fizzy, hoppy drink filling their mouths and making their tongues tingle. Killian finished his in three big gulps and slammed the bottle down on the table, grabbing Walsh’s attention. “No hard feelings,” he smirked smugly.

After a few congratulatory handshakes from some of the other players, Liam and Killian were on their way out the door. The doorman patted Killian on the back as they left so hard that he stumbled forward into the alleyway with a chuckle. They had decided to cut through the woods on the way back to their car, the same way they had come, and Killian couldn’t help but recall the look on Walsh’s face as he had lost.

“Did you see his face?” he laughed, his pockets padded out with all of his cash. 

“Aye, brother, it was a sight for sure,” Liam chuckled, nodding his agreement. “I’ll admit, I was nervous when you bet the car, considering its condition.”

“Well, he wasn’t to know it wasn’t in a state _worth_ what I indicated,” Killian shrugged with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing you won then.” Liam blew out a breath, his nerves calming a little. He patted his own pockets, full of the bills too. Total prize money was forty-thousand dollars, money neither brother had ever seen before. “This is a lot of money,” he grinned. “Well done, brother.”

“I’m going to restore the car,” Killian smiled. “For Nemo.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Liam agreed with a proud smile. His younger brother was becoming a man and his heart swelled in his chest at how much he admired his determination to always do the right thing. Killian may have been a troubled young man, but he always had his heart in the right place.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered and they both froze in their tracks, boots skidding in the dirt. Walsh appeared from behind an oak tree, hands behind his back as he stepped into the middle of the pathway. Liam instinctively stepped in front of Killian to protect him from the older wolf. “Look what I’ve found.”

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Liam said calmly.

“Then hand over the money and no harm will come to you,” Walsh smirked, his expression not filling either brother with any confidence.

“I won fair and square,” Killian growled, his jaw clenched together. He threw his head back a little, inhaling hard and finding no trace of other wolves in the wind. Walsh was alone.

“Oh, I know,” Walsh nodded, toying with his bottom lip. “Congrats,” he spat sarcastically, holding out his hand. “Now hand it over.” He took a threatening step towards the brothers and Liam took a step back, pushing his brother away from the menacing wolf in front of them. 

“If you want _your_ money so badly, then come and get it.” Killian pushed hard against the resistance of Liam’s body, wrenching his arms from his jacket, balling it up in his hands and throwing it to the ground. 

“Killian,” Liam warned his brother darkly, the hair on his neck standing at attention. Killian was slightly drunk and had no idea of the trouble he was getting into. Walsh was a pureblood and while he didn’t know they were not, they still had the opportunity to talk their way out of the situation.

“You’re a real cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Walsh snarled, his lips curling over his teeth in a disgusting smile.

“Joke’s on you,” Killian sneered with a laugh. “My mother was human.” 

“Oh no.” Liam pinched his eyes closed. The one thing he had not wanted to divulge had just come tumbling out of Killian’s stupidly drunk mouth.

“Was?” Walsh scoffed, his words vile as they left his mouth. He looked the wolves in front of him up and down, a look of disgust on his face as he spat at the ground between them. “Good riddance.”

Liam had no time to stop his brother, who pushed him out of the way and was already in wolf form before he reached Walsh. Their mother was a trigger for Killian, his rage surfacing quicker than he had taken to get drunk and his shift taking over him before he had even registered his emotions. Killian lunged for the wolf before him, his legs ripping through his clothes, teeth bared and eyes wide. Walsh didn’t even look surprised when Killian attacked him, laughing sadistically as he fell backward, and the young, black wolf towered over him.

“Is that all you got?” Walsh spat, fingers gripping the excess skin at the side of Killian’s head, holding the snarling wolf from his face. Walsh chuckled again, turning his head to the side when Killian began to drool, a thin drizzle of slobber slowly inching towards his face. “You filthy mongrel dog!”

Killian barked in Walsh’s face, foamy spittle flicking against the man’s face. Walsh grabbed onto a scrap of Killian’s shirt that was hanging loosely around his neck and twisted it tightly until Killian began to gulp furiously for air. Walsh took the opportunity to gain the upper hand, digging his knee into Killian’s ribs and tossing him over his head, Killian’s wolf form writhing mid-air awkwardly.

“Stop!” Liam roared, rushing at his brother. He left Walsh laying in the ground, rushing past him to his brother who was scrambling back to all fours, snorting dirt from his nose and his hackles raised. Halting Killian with a steady hand and a pleading glance, Liam shook his head gently. “Killian, please.”

Liam barely had the words out of his mouth when he cried out, the hot, searing pain of a bite shooting up the back of his leg. Walsh, now in wolf form, had sunk his teeth into Liam’s calf and was shaking his head back and forth, the skin under Liam’s jeans tearing open in no time. Liam turned to his attacker, punching Walsh on the top of the head in an attempt to get him to let go, but all he felt was his jaws clamp down harder on his leg. Liam fell to the ground, the pain in his leg too much to bear whilst upright, and he kicked out at the grey wolf who was tugging at his limb.

Killian sprang over his brother’s fallen figure, ears flattened to his head and teeth bared once more. Walsh released Liam’s leg in order to defend himself, twisting his body sideways and jumping backward, feet scuffing through the littered forest floor. He lifted a leg and clawed Killian’s face, the young wolf wincing away with a yelp as he felt the skin on his cheek open up and ooze with fresh, hot blood.

Killian shook his head, pawing at the side of his face as pain rocked through his head, blood coating his fur and almost blurring his vision. He saw Walsh circling around him, head low and growling, the sound a deep vibration in his throat. Killian circled the opposite way, darkened stare boring into the older wolf in front of him, sizing him up should he need a defense. It wasn’t long before Killian needed to execute his plan. Walsh ran towards him, feet skidding in the fallen leaves and as Killian dodged his charge, he sunk his teeth into the soft skin of Walsh’s neck.

It was so fast, all happening in a split second that left Killian with a mouth full of fur and skin and Walsh yowling in pain. Walsh had left his neck wide open for a bite and the momentum of his forward lunge had caused more damage than either of them thought possible. Killian’s jaws had grabbed a sizeable chunk of Walsh’s neck tissue, ripping it clean off and leaving the wolf with a jagged-edged wound that seeped crimson with every heartbeat. Walsh fell to the ground, squirming in agony as he clawed at the wound site, almost passing out from the blood he was losing and not seeing the huge tree branch as it struck his skull.

“Now stay down,” Liam growled at the unconscious wolf at his feet, throwing the huge, thick branch aside and panting from the exertion of swinging it.

“Is he dead?” Killian asked breathlessly, shifted back to his human form and stark naked behind his brother. His face was smeared with blood that coated his teeth, the red colour contrasting his pale expression. “Did I kill him?” Killian panted heavily, chest heaving, eyes dark with a beast Liam had never seen before. He wanted Walsh to be dead. He craved the feeling of having taken a life, a small twitch of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Liam looked down at Walsh, the wolf out cold but not dead. He toed the canine body with his boot and it let out a gruff growl. He was injured, but he would heal. “He’ll live,” Liam assured Killian with a distasteful tone. “Unfortunately.”

“We should get going,” Killian said quickly, casting a glance around the secluded clearing. The scent of humans lingered in the forest and whilst there were none around at this hour, Killian knew there would be soon enough. “What are we going to do about him?” Killian motioned his head towards Walsh, bending down to retrieve his jacket, the last piece of clothing left unshredded.

“Leave him,” Liam shrugged, turning away from the wolf on the ground. “We don’t owe him anything.”

“Come on,” Killian urged his brother with a tug on his arm. “Let’s get you back to the farm so Ruby can take a look at that leg.” Killian lifted Liam’s arm and ducked underneath, letting his brother lean his weight on him as he hopped alongside him.

“Some night, huh, little brother?” Liam laughed, his chuckle cut off with a wince when he knocked his leg on a tree root that was sticking up out of the ground.

Naked and covered in blood, patches caked onto his skin and matted in his chest hair, Killian laughed dryly. “Younger,” Killian droned sarcastically. “Can’t wait to see what you have planned for when I’m twenty-one.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of torture and violence under the following TRIGGER WARNINGS: Torture, Killian!Whump, chained to a tree, bound, forced change, electrocuted, cock and ball torture, scalpel, medieval device, blood, bruised, bloodied, broken bones, cries of agony, taunting, awoke with cold water - if you are NOT comfortable with any of the above, or want to talk about it with me first, please contact me on Tumblr @artistic-writer. In case you are enjoying this story, and do not want to see Killian hurt in any way, you may skip this chapter and begin Ch 15 without missing vital plot points.

Killian wasn’t sure if it was the flow of Emma’s dress that made it look like she was moving in slow motion, or if she actually was. She wore a full length ballroom gown, the skirt held outwards by a stiff petticoat and a silken ribbon around her wrist to hold the trailing train aloft. It was the most brilliant white, covered in iridescent pearl beads that caught the lights as she descended the stairs.

Her hair was plaited into a circle that laid over the back of her head like a tiara, a slither of wire adorned with silver leaf shaped beads woven into the golden blonde locks. They were sparkling in the light, twinkling like the stars, and a similar pattern of beads was incorporated into the bouquet she was carrying. Blood red roses mixed with white, the human symbols for romance and a new beginning, were carried at her chest, a delicate charm bracelet fitting loosely around her wrist with opposing half moon shaped charms dangling from it.

When Emma reached the last step, Killian stepped forward and extended out his hand to her, which she took and finally stepped off the staircase. The heels of her shoes fell silently on the ultra plush cream coloured carpet which was laid out like a runner, the edges held to the floor by bright, shiny silver metal fixings. It was just one thing about the day Killian knew he would never forget, even if it distracted him from the beautiful creature in front of him.

Emma fit into her dress perfectly, almost as if she was sewn in. It rustled as she moved into his space, the scent of the roses between them invading his senses and making him smile. It was a joyful smile, almost one hundred percent happy, but as his eyes roamed up and down her glitzy figure, he couldn’t help but let a few sideways smirks slide over his lips as he imagined how Emma’s skin felt underneath the skirt.

“Down boy,” Emma warned him with a coy smile. 

“Emma, you look…” he began, his cheeks flushed and his smile unwaning. Her beauty had stolen the air right out of his lungs and despite his wolf stamina, he couldn’t recover.

“I know.” She smiled at him, clutching his hand a little tighter.

“I never thought this day would come,” Killian admitted shyly, a hint of sadness tainting his words. Emma let her bare shoulders drop a little and Killian couldn’t help but reach out and trail his thumb over the jut of her collarbone.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be okay?” Emma smiled warmly. She reached up, her free hand cupping his cheek and she traced the outline of his scar with her soft, silky thumbpad.

“We’ve just been through so much,” Killian told her, turning his face so that he could kiss her palm. Her skin smelled sweet, more so than normal, and Killian couldn’t stop himself from inhaling the scent that wafted from her wrist.

“And we’ll go through so much more,” Emma told him with a nod. “But whatever happens, we will always have each other.” Emma smiled at him again, the skin around her eyes crinkling and her lightly blushed cheeks pushing her eyes closed a little.

“I promised you forever,” Killian reminded himself out loud. “Come what may.”

“You did,” Emma beamed. 

“Will you still love me when we are old and grey?” Killian teased. He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles and looking down, watching his fidgeting hand nervously.

“Killian Jones, are you nervous?” Emma teased back. “Stalling, maybe?”

“Stalling?” Killian laughed, aghast. “Never.”

“Good,” Emma told him as she slipped her hand from his and lifted it behind his head, lacing her fingers through the soft, downy hair at the back of his neck. It was a little bit prickly from his recent haircut for the day, already growing back at the edges of his collar. She pulled his face to hers, planting her brilliantly red lipstick coated lips to his tenderly for a quick kiss. “Because I really want to marry you.”

“Hmm,” Killian hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning into her. “Conveniently, you are in a gown. And I’m in a tux. And look, you even have some flowers,” he smiled, nodding to the bouquet in her hand that was becoming increasingly squashed between them.

“Whilst I would love to do this right now,” Emma smirked, running a single finger down the side of his face and over the point of his elvish ear seductively. “I need you to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” Killian said earnestly, leaning forward and nipping at her exposed collarbone.

“You have to wake up,” Emma said softly.

“What?” Killian frowned, pulling back when Emma stepped out of his embrace. She walked backward a little, clutching the flowers with both hands and staring at him with pleading eyes. Killian’s heart took off in his chest, the scene behind Emma fading away and leaving her standing in the darkness, her dress the brightest beacon. 

“Killian, you have to wake up,” she whispered again, her voice fading away as tiny fragments of her figure began to blow away as if they were dust. Panic washed over Killian and he reached out, clutching onto particles of his love that simply slipped through his fingers like dust in a beam of sunlight.

“You have to wake up!” A harsh voice invaded his ears, a sudden weight pressing down on his entire body as Killian’s entire vision faded to black and he felt the pull of reality once more. He hadn’t even opened his eyes when a sharp, stabbing sensation signalled the cold water hitting his entire body, his lungs gasping for much needed air and his eyes flying open. He shook his head a few times, flicking away the water as it dripped down his face and from the end of his nose, mixing with dried blood as it did and turning the droplets pink.

Killian’s delirium cleared and his vision eventually focused on Walsh standing in front of him, a now empty bucket swinging from one hand. He could barely lift his head, the shivering from the ice cold water setting into his bones and rendering his neck muscles useless with spasms. The tiny, now melting, cubes of ice littered the forest floor at Killian’s feet and he was completely naked, the rough bark of a huge oak tree digging into his bare back and his shoulders wrenched painfully backward because his arms were chained around the trunk.

“There you are,” Walsh spat, leaning forward, his face inches from Killian’s. Killian averted his gaze to watch the water running down through the hair on his legs, his jaw clenched tightly and the wounds on his face reopening from the force of the water hitting him. “I thought I’d killed you,” Walsh laughed. “We don’t want that just yet.”

“What...What do you want?” Killian stuttered, his skin rubbing the bark as he shivered. He gulped, the distaste for his captor evident in his words and leaving a disgusting taste in the back of his throat.

Walsh laughed a sadistic chuckle that left a crawling sensation over Killian’s skin. “Now isn’t that the million dollar question?” He snapped, moving around the tree a little and checking the chains. They were secure, padlocked together tightly at the back of the old tree, Killian’s hands wrapped up in them midway and holding his arms backward.

Killian shuddered when a new wave of shivering passed over him, tiny ice cold droplets of water dripping onto his body and making him twitch involuntarily. He pulled against the chains but they were not moving, not even an inch, and he casually tried to cast a look at his surroundings. 

There was no noise of anything nearby. No road, not even the barest rustle of leaves from any wildlife and Killian knew Walsh had them somewhere secluded. There was a crude looking wooden table set up behind Walsh, a rickety chair barely big enough for an adult next to it and an assortment of what Killian could only describe as tools on its seat. Walsh began moving them, one by one, deliberately so Killian could see, and resting them on the table top. They seemed to be alone, the wolves from earlier nowhere to be seen or smelled, and Killian briefly wondered how he had come to be naked and chained to a tree.

“Trying to remember?” Walsh taunted, reading his mind. “Let me fill in some gaps for you. With a story.” He grabbed the chair and spun it in his hand, turning it backward and setting it down in front of Killian. He sat on it astride, leaning forward and resting his forearms over the aged wooden back. “Once upon a time, there were two wolves,” he began in a sing song voice.

Killian felt his anger rising, the tensed muscles in his jaw clenching his teeth together so tightly he thought he might crack a tooth. He flexed his fingers, balling his hands into fists on either side of the tree as Walsh continued.

“Brothers,” he clarified. “And when their father died, there was an epic battle for dominance.” He shifted his weight on the chair and it groaned a little, the wood creaking and wobbling to one side. Walsh sucked in a breath and rubbed a hand over his smooth chin. “When it was all done, and one son had come out superior, there was a quiet period. The other son didn’t mind because the new alpha had chosen a barren mate, so one day, his time to rule would arrive.”

“Just get to the point,” Killian spat, blood infused spittle dripping from his lip and falling to the leaves at his feet.

Walsh jumped to his feet and was on Killian in a flash, grabbing his hair and wrenching his head back painfully until he cracked his skull on the bark of the tree trunk. Killian cried out, pinching his eyes closed and holding his breath until Walsh released his hold and sighed. “Don’t interrupt me,” he said calmly, smoothing Killian’s hair flat and returning to his chair.

Killian’s head began to pound, his temples throbbing and the pain from the smack covering his scalp. He tried to shake it off again, but it just made his eyeballs hurt and his vision cloud at the edges of his periphery. He didn’t look up when he heard the creak of the chair once more, instead focusing all of his pain into staring at the ground.

“Now, where was I. Oh yes!” Walsh declared triumphantly, leaning back in the chair and waving a finger in Killian’s direction. “The brother knew his time would come, and if he wanted to rule sooner, all he had to do was kill his brother and make it look like an accident. Easy, right?” Walsh shrugged but Killian did not answer. “Wrong,” Walsh said darkly, pushing himself to his feet once more. 

Killian lifted his head a little, ignoring the lights pulsing behind his eyes as he struggled to adjust to the new level of vision. More light invaded his pupils and made his head ache even more, but he watched with a furious fascination as Walsh made his way to the table nearby. “The one brother, let’s call him David, went and had a child,” he laughed to himself, running a finger over the sharp edge of a blade. “And now, with her unscheduled birth, the other brother, we’ll call him James, would never be king.” Walsh lifted up the implement he had been touching and held it in front of his face, the blade glinting in the sunlight that poked through the trees. “That is,” he began, his voice trailing off as he bit his bottom lip in anticipation of using the tool. “Unless she died.”

Killian eyed him suspiciously as he continued to inspect his table of torture tools. “Or was exiled,” Walsh shrugged, a sly smile spreading over his lips as he stroked over another of the tools. “Imagine if she got pregnant. David would have no choice but to exile her, right? Leaving him without an heir and, hopefully, distracted enough that James could overthrow him easily.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Killian growled, his limbs beginning to tingle from the lack of sensation.

Walsh turned to look at him, pressing his finger to the point of the blade. “I’m so glad you asked.” He sucked in a breath as he stalked towards the tree again and Killian tensed, flinching away a little. He turned his head to one side, involuntarily submitting in hopes he would be spared any more torment. 

“I’ve tracked her, to here,” Walsh told him, waving the blade around in front of his face and motioning to the forest around them. “Divine taste she has, almost like the finest dining you have ever encountered. But she has this scent, like a blemish on her otherwise beautiful smell,” Walsh said with a smack of his lips, imagining Emma’s scent the first day he had smelled her at Misthaven, but then his face turned up with a grimace. “Tainting her. Ruining the way she smelled for me,” he growled angrily. He stepped impossibly closer to Killian, almost pressing his body against his and pinning him into the tree even harder.

“It’s you,” he spat, eyes flicking over the profile features of Killian’s face, his hot breath condensing against his cheek. Walsh’s eyes lingered on the scar in Killian’s face and he curled his lips, disgusted. “You reek of human, a half breed mongrel who isn’t worthy to walk the earth, let alone touch her, and yet you are all over her, because wouldn’t you know it? You’re the mongrel she has been fucking!”

Walsh’s evil cackle filled the forest as realisation dawned on Killian. The story sounded familiar, it was something Liam had told him about once, but at the time he had neglected to see the relevance. Werewolf culture wasn’t something he had taken the time to follow as intimately as Liam had, only stopping to briefly learn a few of the rules required of all werewolves. Don’t tell humans. That was about all Killian knew, but Walsh’s tale had triggered his memory of past bedtime stories and he audibly sighed.

“Now he gets it,” Walsh crouched over, levelling his gaze with Killian’s. He tapped the point of the blade against Killian’s unscarred cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth as he twisted it and watched the blade cut into his flesh. “You’ve been fucking Emma Nolan. The heir of Misthaven.”

Killian wrenched his head sideways again and Walsh’s fiendish laugh rang out in his ears. The mere mention of Emma made his blood boil, Killian’s rage building up beyond his control and before he had time to reason with himself, he tried to lunge forward and grab at Walsh, but his arms remained pinned to the huge trunk of the tree. He yelped in pain, relaxing back into his helpless position whilst Walsh laughed at him.

“What? You don’t want a scar to match on this side?” He tapped the blade against Killian’s cheek again and Killian flinched away with a growl. “No? Pity. Chicks dig scars,” Walsh laughed, the maniacal sound disappearing as he looked down Killian’s body. “See, the problem is,” Walsh began, sliding the back of the blade deliberately down Killian’s chest until it caught on the curled hair over his pubic bone. “I don’t think you should be. Fucking her, I mean.”

Killian kicked out his leg, trying to bat Walsh’s away with a knee, but Walsh simply grinned at him and replaced the blade to Killian’s groin. The cold steel pressed against the underside of his flaccid penis, the skin of his scrotum shrinking a little more from the contact with the cold and Killian visibly gulped. Walsh’s face lit up a little, his grip on the scalpel blade tightening. “I don’t think you should be fucking anyone, mongrel,” Walsh spat with revulsion. “Maybe we can change a few things, here and there, you know, to reduce the risk of you siring any filthy half breed progeny.”

Walsh slid the blade sideways, slicing through the skin on Killian’s sack. Killian ground his jaw tighter, the sound of squeaking teeth filling his ears. There was a cool sensation between his legs that was quickly replaced by a sting and then hotness, the stream of blood that spurted out of a nicked vein spraying onto his inner thigh. Killian hissed through his teeth, pressing his thighs together and flopping his head back against the tree trunk as Walsh laughed harder.

“Maybe the boys and I can show Emma what she is missing and then who knows, she might get the taste for pureblood,” Walsh threatened, running his tongue over his teeth, pausing to tap the tip against the point of his canine.

“She’s not a piece of meat,” Killian growled through clenched teeth, turning his head to face Walsh in a challenge of dominance he could never win in his current predicament.

“Funny, isn’t it? Her an heiress and you a mongrel. A real Lady and the Tramp situation,” he taunted once more, returning to the table and discarding the used blade back with the other implements. “I’m bored of this one now,” Walsh said idly. The scalpel hit the table with a clatter and another grabbed Walsh’s attention, his eyes lighting up when he spied the two-pronged tips of his heretic’s fork. He picked it up, turning to face Killian once more, tapping his fingertip against the spiked tip to test its sharpness. “Now this is more like it.”

“Please…” Killian implored with a fresh wave of unbearable pain shooting through his scrotum. Letting his head hang limp once more, the sting in his shoulders turning to a numbness that was just as painful, he tried to push through the throbbing in his groin.

“Oh, don’t beg,” Walsh told him firmly, stabbing the harsh points into the soft flesh under Killian’s jaw. It forced him to lift his head and it was then that he realised he was fitted with a thin strap of a collar. Walsh passed it through the middle of the device and refastened it, settling the other pointed end of the four-pronged device onto the skin covering Killian’s sternum. Killian winced at the new sensation, the prongs digging into his skin and causing a burning sensation each time he moved his head or lowered it too much through fatigue. The prongs were so sharp that Killian feared if he fell unconscious again he would surely pierce his chin, and as he was chained to the tree he had no way of shifting to wolf form to heal faster.

“What do you want?” Killian gulped, his words changed by the angle of his neck and the bob of his Adam’s apple passing painfully over the prongs of the fork.

“I want Emma!” Walsh shouted out, his voice echoing through the trees. He was panting hard, his eyes wide with a crazed stare that had Killian a little bit apprehensive. Walsh was unhinged, clearly obsessed with Emma too, and when he grabbed Killian’s face between his long, dirty fingers, the fork dug into his neck a little more. “But you are the wolf she wants, and it’s vile!”

Killian stared into the void of Walsh’s eyes for a second, the soulless windows reflecting nothing back but hate. He kept his breathing calm, the muscles in his jaw ticking evidently as he rearranged his head so that the heretic’s fork spikes were as comfortable as they possibly could be. “Why don’t you unchain me so we can settle this like real wolves?” Killian tried but Walsh snorted.

“What, so you can give me another scar?” he mocked.

“Death doesn’t leave a scar,” Killian said darkly.

“You know what was wrong with you?” Walsh smirked boyishly, continuing when Killian didn’t respond with anything but an angry stare. “You were nothing. You had no ambition, Killian, and a man who wants nothing has no price.”

“I’m a wolf,” Killian snapped, his words almost a gruff bark.

“Of course you are,” Walsh said sarcastically, tracing the outline of the scar on his neck again. “And luckily for me,” Walsh pointed to his own chest and began to grin. “But not so much for you,” he pointed to Killian, eyes lighting up again with a crazy look. “I’ve found something that you want more than life itself,” Walsh sneered. “Maybe hurting Emma will inspire you.”

“Don’t you hurt her,” Killian growled.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch,” Walsh mused, ignoring Killian’s pleas. “Emma will come for you, because she loves you, for whatever reason, and she will find your crossbred mongrel carcass instead. Then, when she is crying over your corpse, I can really have some fun.”

Killian pulled against his chains, ignoring the jab of the heretic's fork as he clenched his jaw. “I swear,” Killian threatened, his voice low and dark. “If you touch one hair on her pelt…”

“You think I care about your idle threats?” Walsh ran his tongue over his bottom lip with a smirk, wagging a finger accusingly at Killian as he returned to the table. “I knew you would be a fighter,” Walsh told him over his shoulder, his voice changed to a more normal tone and the rage in his eyes barely there. Walsh was a psychotic, there was no doubt about it, and the calmness in his tone made Killian a little fearful. When he turned around again and Killian spied the cattle prod in his hands, his fear turn to sheer terror as he pulled against the restraint of the chain once more. “Let’s see how long you can fight off your change.”

The crackle of electricity and blue spark between the tip of the prod made Killian panic. He wasn’t scared of the shock, he could handle that part of torture, but if his body succumbed to his change, his bones would be ripped from their sockets and he would be stuck in his wolf form until he healed. All werewolves had the ability to heal faster when in their canine state, but if the body was shocked into a change, it would enter a sort of safe mode where it wouldn’t change back to human until it felt the danger had passed. 

Luckily for Killian, unless Walsh decided to end his torture and kill him, he would heal. Unluckily for him, he would shift whilst chained to a tree and it would all but kill him anyway.

“Please, you don’t…” Killian tried to reason but his words were halted by the spasming clench of his jaw when Walsh jabbed the tip of the cattle prod into his ribcage. His ribs were still broken from the alleyway assault and they crunched in his torso as he twisted away from the source of his pain. Killian’s entire body went stiff, the current passing through every ion in his muscles and tensing them all at the same time. Killian’s head snapped back, his skull hitting the tree again with a painful grunt and his words disappeared, turning into a long, monotonous cry as he shook and fought off the inner wolf.

“Now what did I tell you about begging,” Walsh said with mock sweetness, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he shut off the device and Killian’s body went limp.

Killian sucked in a breath, gulping in air hurriedly and ignoring the sting of the heretic’s fork against the fleshy underside of his chin and the sharp stabbing in his balls. His body ached, the tingle of electricity still thrumming through his arms and legs, his lungs burning as they desperately tried to fill with oxygen. Being electrocuted didn’t just send Killian’s lungs into a spasm, reducing their efficiency, but it also sent a jolt of excruciating pain through his nervous system and every hair molecule that covered his skin shrunk and pulled tight over his bones.

“Is..that…” Killian panted quietly through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Walsh mocked, stepping closer to Killian and cupping a hand around his ear. “What did the mongrel say?”

A new rage fuelled Killian’s hatred for the wolf in front of him and he wished his could end his life right then and there, if not to protect himself from the inevitable torturethat was about to come, but to protect Emma. If Walsh managed to get him to change, Emma wouldn’t be safe, but despite Killian’s fears for the she-wolf he loved, he wouldn’t give in without a fight. Even if it was verbal.

“I said,” Killian panted a little louder, peeling his eyes open to catch Walsh’s gaze once more. “Is that all you got?” he spat, dark eyes boring into Walsh with a challenge the Neverland beta was shocked to see.

Walsh was taken aback for a second before his lips spread into another evil smile. “I know what you are doing,” he told Killian firmly, teasing the end of the electrical stick over his flesh without turning it on. Killian flinched away instinctively and Walsh stifled a laugh. “And know this, half breed,” he spat out the term against Killian’s face, the spray of his spittle landing on Killian’s cheek. “I’m in charge here!” He roared, igniting the electrical spark at the end of the pole once more and stabbing it into Killian’s pectoral muscles.

Killian began to cry out once more, but the current tore through his muscles and made every fibre contract again. Killian’s back arched off the tree trunk and he shook, the chain holding him still rattling when it slackened behind the tree. Walsh didn’t let up for a while longer this time, making sure Killian was almost out of breath, red faced and the smallest dribble of foaming spittle appearing at the corner of his mouth before he pulled the pole from his body again. Killian went limp again and the heretic's fork stabbed through his chin, the taste of blood invading his mouth mixed with the copper tang of rust that coated the medieval tool.

“Make no mistake,” Walsh threatened, turning on the current again and stabbing the cattle prod into Killian’s thigh. “I’m in control of you and your change,” he snarled, his face lighting up when Killian’s eyes rolled back in his head and it shook violently from side to side, his lips turning blue from lack of oxygen and the heretic's fork tearing even further into the flesh of his sternum.

Killian couldn’t hear Walsh’s voice, only the high pitched buzz of tinnitus that rang out in his ears and accompanied the crackle of electricity that surged through his body. Every muscle burned, stretched to their absolute limit, and the vicious movement of Killian’s body against the tree tore chunks of flesh from his back and shoulders. He pulled against his restraints, sure his shoulders were going to pop from their sockets and feared the huge, cast iron links that bound him would tear off his hands.

Finally he felt relief when Walsh stopped electrocuting him, the tingle in his limbs turning into a dead weight and his body sagging. The wetness of blood coated Killian’s back and ran down over his legs, pooling slowly at his feet. Bruises appeared at the sight of every electrical intrusion and his chest heaved, breath catching dryly in his throat, lips cracked and head lolling forward only to spring back when the heretic's fork stabbed further into the flesh of his jaw.

“You are resilient,” Walsh observed, almost impressed. “I’ve known purebred werewolves to have changed by now.”

“Must be my human side,” Killian snapped, his muscles twitching with aftershocks and thick, dark red blood dripping from his chin as he spat out a mouthful of the copper tainted liquid.

Walsh made a noise in his throat and then his gaze flicked down to the black, plastic coated pole his hand. Killian followed his eyes as best he could and noticed that the cattle prod came with a current setting and that it was currently on the lowest it could be. With a devilish grin, Walsh cranked it up to the maximum setting, a low buzz from the charge of electricity filling Killian’s ears.

“Let’s get rid of that then, shall we?” Walsh grinned. He flicked the switch and the lightning shaped blue light jumped between the two contacts at the end of the stick, the charge sizzling audibly. Before he had time to jab him again, Killian called out, the scent of Graham and Emma invading his nostrils from over Walsh’s shoulder. He peered into the thick forest behind Walsh and noticed the huge man beside his love, downwind and hidden from his attacker, a long finger pressed to pursed lips as they stalked their prey.

“Wait!” Killian stalled and Walsh froze. “You’re right,” he said flatly. “I don’t deserve Emma. If you let me go, you win. She’s yours.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, dirty, almost like he was giving up and Walsh cocked his head to the side as he regarded Killian’s sudden change of heart. Killian tried to ignore the sting of pain in his chest, the burn site of the previous electrocution having left its mark like a brand against his skin, hoping that Walsh wouldn’t turn around and smell his saviors.

“Just like that?” Walsh narrowed his eyes.

“Just like that,” Killian agreed. “I’ll leave town and never return.”

Walsh dropped his arm by his side, the sizzle of the cattle prod fading away as he turned it off. He rubbed his chin, the daily sprout of his stubble like velcro under his fingertips. “See, here is my problem,” Walsh told Killian honestly, stepping closer and reigniting the cattle prod. It was inches from Killian’s face, the blue spark lighting up his eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore his body’s inner wolf fighting with him to come out and tear Walsh’s throat out. “You’re lying,” Walsh told him darkly. “I know you’re lying because your lips are moving.”

“I’m not,” Killian blurted, making his voice sound more desperate as he caught sight of Graham circling around behind Walsh.

“You must think I have a terrible memory,” Walsh said slowly, inspecting the tip of the cattle prod and watching the spark jump between the contacts with a morbid fascination. Killian looked confused and his expression just made Walsh revel in his power, even more, tilting his head sideways and running his fingers over the fleshy bump of his neck scar. Killian’s face paled. “I knew you’d remember too,” Walsh spat. “This is about you, and what you did to me. I don’t want Emma, although a taste wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Stay away from her,” Killian warned helplessly.

“Or what?” Walsh ground out. “You are hardly in a position to stop me.”

“Maybe not,” Killian growled. “But she has people. You’ll be sorry.”

Walsh took a small step back and inhaled deeply. “No, Killian, I think you’re the one who will be sorry.”

There was a split second before the charged rod hit his skin that Killian remembered seeing Graham emerge from the leafy shadows but after he was electrocuted at maximum voltage, he could no longer contain the wolf inside of him. Every nerve ending was stuck between pain and never ending tension, the blue spark of electricity licking at the skin covering his ribs just long enough before Graham reached Walsh that his body responded in the worst possible way. Killian’s cries mixed with a harrowing howl as he shifted, joints popping from their sockets and unable to fully find their place in his canine form because of the chain holding his arms apart.

He grew into his wolf form quickly and the heretics fork strap snapped almost instantly, falling to the forest floor, silently forgotten. The jut of Killian’s barrelled ribs made his back arch and his hind legs kicked out into the space in front of him as he struggled against the chain. His cries were pure anguish, his jaws snapping at nothing, desperately gnawing at his own fur as he fought to be free.

“Killian!” Emma screamed, rushing between Graham and Walsh as they fought over the cattle prod, both careful to avoid touching the live end. She raced over to the tree, horrified by what she saw, a huge black mess of fur and twisted limbs yowling in pain, begging her with his eyes for some sort of help. Emma searched around the tree, finding the padlock behind the huge trunk and pulling at it helplessly.

“Here!” Ruby called, rushing over as best she could with a pair of bolt cutters she had sourced from Walsh’s torture table. “Use these!” 

Emma grabbed the long handled tools from her human companion and went to work on the chain, cutting through all three layers that wrapped themselves around Killian’s previously human wrists. Seeing him in such an unnatural state was scary, the adrenaline rushing through her body as he finally fell into a heap at the base of the tree and silence filled the clearing. Emma threw the bolt cutters aside and ran around the tree, ignoring the fleeing Walsh as he tore past her in wolf form and scurried from the woods.

“That bastard,” Graham ground out, turning off the cattle prod and then snapping the device over his knee. “He changed to get away faster. That coward!”

“Is he okay?” Ruby worried, throwing the bag off her shoulder and sinking down onto her knees next to Emma. Graham noticed the two women and joined them, helping to free Killian from the chain. “Why would he do this?”

“Killian?” Emma soothed, ignoring both of them. Killian cast her a sideways glance, his eyes watery and pupils blown. In a more natural position he tucked his legs under himself, trying to make himself smaller, and his tail tucked itself between his legs as he whimpered like a puppy. “It’s me,” Emma told him softly, reaching out and stroking her hand through the fur on the back of his neck. He flinched, kicking out some leaves and tensing which made him yelp out in pain.

“Easy, Killian,” Ruby added softly, pulling the plunger on a syringe. The needle end was stuck into a small vial of clear liquid and she was focused on the amount filling the syringe.

“What’s that?” Emma whispered.

“Ketamine,” Ruby told her in a business like voice. “For his pain.”

Emma watched Ruby lift Killian’s foreleg gently, the movement making him howl in pain. “I’m sorry,” Ruby soothed in a shaking voice, her own emotion getting the better of her. Her hands were steady as she found Killian’s vein, pressing her thumb into his leg to make it bulge through his fur. Once she was content she had found it, she slipped the needle through the coarse, black fur and into the skin, pulling the plunger until she could see blood in the drug, swirling through the clear, thick liquid like smoke. “This will make you feel better, I promise.” Ruby injected the entire syringe into Killian’s leg and he let out a groan.

“How long before it works?” Emma asked her quickly, eager to get Killian out of the forest. Emma rested her hand to Killian’s ribcage, feeling the beat of his heart under her fingertips slow to a steady, more normal rhythm. If only they had arrived earlier. If only they could have stopped this whole situation from happening.

“A few minutes,” Ruby told her honestly. She lifted Killian’s eyelids and watched his pupils grow even bigger as the drug took effect. “Where are you going to take him? Walsh already knows where Killian lives. You can’t go back there.” 

“Ruby’s right,” Graham said sadly. “How about Liam’s place? He’s out of town anyway.”

“That’s right!” Ruby agreed excitedly. “His brother’s loft is empty.”

Killian exhaled hard and one leg twitched, almost as if he was asleep and Emma lifted a leg to test his pain threshold. He didn’t cry out this time, so she got to her feet and with the help of Graham, lifted him into her arms.

“Take me there,” Emma demanded quickly, striding past them with Killian in her arms and fury for Walsh in her soul.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can be read directly after 13 if you have skipped 14 :)

Liam Jones was the complete polar opposite of his brother. He was neat, obsessively so, and everything in his open plan loft apartment had a place. There wasn’t even a speck of dust, and the man had been out of the country for over six months. The walls were modern brickwork, a huge skylight style window at one end, lighting the entire place, and a huge concrete column stood in the middle of the whole floor. None of this had mattered to Emma as Ruby had used her spare key to unlock the place, guide Emma into the bedroom and give her a quick crash course on pain management. 

After they had tracked and rescued Killian from Walsh’s torture, Emma had carried him back to Liam’s loft. They couldn’t take him back to his own apartment because Walsh already knew where he lived, and Emma wasn’t willing to risk that Graham’s fight with Walsh hadn’t scared him enough to leave them alone. Emma was reluctant to suggest Ruby’s farm, because as a human she would never be able to fight off a wolf attack, and they most certainly couldn’t take Killian to Misthaven. After Walsh had fled, that only left them with one option - Liam’s loft. Graham had agreed to watch the place in case Walsh managed to track them there too.

That had been two days ago, and Emma was starting to worry that Killian would not change back into his human form. He had been through a traumatic ordeal, there was no doubt about it, and Emma worried that if he ever did change back, he would never be the same because of it. Changing took its toll on a werewolf, that was a given, but a forced change under such horrific circumstances was sure to leave its psychological mark somehow. But there was nothing Emma could do. Killian wouldn’t change back, if at all, until his body was healed enough that his human form could contain the pain.

Emma had kept a bedside vigil for Killian for forty-eight hours. She had only left his side to relieve herself and to grab a bite of whatever Ruby or Graham had brought over for her. She had barely slept, only catching a light nap here and there, petrified she would hurt him even more if she ventured too close. It was tearing her up inside not being any closer than a hand on a huge paw, but Killian hadn’t even so much as stirred, and she didn’t want to risk disturbing him more than she needed to.

“You’ll be okay,” Emma said idly, her eyes still puffy from crying so much. She had waited until Ruby and Graham had left the first night to finally spill her tears, the raw emotional burden associated with a fear of losing her soulmate finally too much to carry. 

Emma stroked Killian’s foreleg as he lay on his side, head propped humanlike on a single white pillow and breathing deep. She was just about to pull her hand away when he pawed at her, eager for her to continue her ministrations. He opened his eyes, a huff bubbling from his dried lips and he licked his maw and blinked her into his vision. Emma smiled for the first time she had in over two days, and he gave her a happy whine.

“Hey you,” Emma smiled happily, tears welling in her eyes once more. He was awake, and she knew he would be okay. She stood quickly, leaning over his giant canine body and planting trembling lips to the soft fur between his ears, letting her kiss linger as she inhaled his scent. “You scared me.”

Killian’s tail began to thump the duvet and he pawed at her again. The fact he was even able to move his legs at all was a miracle in itself and Emma was overwhelmed with emotion. She burst into tears, her own wails of joy muffled by the fur on Killian’s neck, where she had buried her face as she held him. When she had finally let it all out, the hot wet tears staining her face, Emma took up residence next to him in the bed and Killian darted out his tongue to lick at her tears.

“I’m okay,” she offered in reassurance, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “We’re okay.”

\--

Eventually they had both slept, and Emma had the dream again, the smell of freshly bloomed flowers filling her senses as she walked through the forest clearing. Things were different now that she knew she and Killian shared the same dream, as if subconsciously their discovery had opened a new door into their reverie. Things were brighter, the forest ambience much louder, and this time when they neared the tombstone, there was more. No longer did she wake up just after discovering the name etched into the stone tablet was hers, but rather much later, after she had crossed a river.

The water in the river was icy cold, as cold as death, and Emma felt the sting of the water against her skin through the material of her gown. It was only waist deep, but half way across, the torrent would change into blood, the red liquid washing around her as she watched it thicken. Even in the dream state, Emma knew it was an omen, a vision of what was to come, and it made her anxious. So anxious she had never reached the opposite bank, always startling awake at the same point.

She sat bolt upright in bed, the darkness of the room causing her pupils to widen, and tried to focus on her surroundings. She could make out some shapes, possibly furniture, and her fingers clutched at the sheet beside her hips as she tried to regain some sort of control over her breathing. She could feel the sticky, cool sensation of sweat over her back and shoulders, plastering her shirt to her body and paradoxically making her burn up.

“Emma?” A small voice whispered and Emma audibly gasped.

“Killian?” she whispered back, her voice laced with doubt over her own words. It was too soon. He couldn’t have changed back after such a short time, could he? “Killian, is that you?” she repeated into the darkness.

“Aye, love,” he rasped, his voice grainy and battered by thirst. The bed shifted and groaned under his weight and Emma felt herself relax. “Who else would it be?”

“Oh, Killian!” Emma exclaimed, the sting of happy tears pricking at her eyelids as she fumbled around next to the bed for the lamp. She was sure she had seen one before she had drifted off to sleep, but now, in her eagerness to gaze upon his human face again, she was a clumsy fool desperately waving her hand around in the darkness. Eventually she touched the cool metal of the touch lamp and the room was illuminated by a soft, orange light that bathed every brickwork wall in its light, and then turned back to face the man beside her.

“Hey, love,” he said sweetly and gave her a pathetic looking smile, the pain that still coursed through his body evident all over his features. “Did you miss me?” he grunted as he tried to sit up, arms shaking under the exertion.

Emma threw herself at him, clutching his face in her hands and, barely able to focus her tear filled eyes on him, and pressed her lips to his urgently. Killian fell back onto the plump pillows of his brother’s bed, ignoring the stabbing sensation through his joints as he cupped Emma’s face in his hands and held her face to his. He kissed her like he might never again, his lips slanting over hers as he brushed her hair out of his way and weaved his fingers through it.

Emma returned his eagerness, fingernails scraping down the side of his stubbly cheeks with desire. She was desperate to taste him, a mixture of nearly losing him and her wolf heat making her insane. Her head was spinning, her tongue running along the seam of his lips and a soft moan tumbling from her mouth when she finally had to breathe. She swallowed hard, planting her forehead against Killian’s and holding his face in her hands, him mirroring the action and interrupting the tear stains on her face with a swipe of his thumb.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Killian said softly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Emma whispered against his lips. “No more being a hero, okay?”

“I was protecting you,” Killian argued weakly.

“Killian,” Emma admonished, her gaze stern.

“Okay,” Killian agreed, nodding his head as best he could. “No more heroics.”

“Promise me,” Emma demanded desperately. She pulled her face away from his to look him in the eye, her pools of green screaming out in distress. Killian’s smile faded, Emma’s very real anguish making his heart crack.

“I promise,” he nodded at her. “I promise.” He pulled her face to his again, showing her exactly how much he meant his words with a long, slow kiss. Emma met his lips feverishly, combing her fingers through his sleep messed hair that felt slightly greasy under her touch, but she didn’t care. Killian was safe, and in her arms, and that was all she wanted.

Emma shifted her weight on the bed and it made Killian suddenly cry out. She jumped back, eyes wide with shock and following her hands as they hovered over his naked torso to search for any wounds. Emma had only inventoried his wounds whilst in a highly sedated wolf form, so it was entirely possible that she had just discovered a new one without even realising it. The problem was, Killian was littered in scars and his fast healing made it difficult to distinguish between old and new wounds.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted quickly, watching him finally let out a breath and relax back into the pillow. “What hurts?” She prompted him gently. “Can I get you anything? Water? Meds? What did I do?”

“Emma,” Killian halted her rambling with the word she loved to hear most of all. Her name on his lips was like instant salvation, calming her anxiety. She looked up at him and he offered her another twitch of a smile, one she could tell he was trying to hide the pain behind. “I’m okay,” he assured her softly, clutching his side as he rearranged himself. “Just a little niggle. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Emma frowned. “If you are hurting, Killian, I want to help.”

“Darling, I was electrocuted until I changed whilst chained to a tree. Things are going to be sore for a few more days.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst maintaining the most intense eye contact that stole Emma’s breath. Even incapacitated, the man was a menace to her impulses. “It was nothing you did, I promise.”

Emma relaxed, her body visibly sagging a little and she gave him a calm smile. She had been so stricken over the last few days that she had forgotten how to relax and her muscles felt so tense. Even when she was asleep she had been poised and ready for another attack, never quite drifting past the lightest stages of slumber. She wanted to be on guard to make sure Killian was safe, but the way he caressed her hand, lovingly flattening her palm over his heart told her that they would both be safe forever.

“Forever, right?” Killian’s lips twitched into a sideways smirk and he raised an eyebrow playfully when Emma blushed. His fingertips brushed over the back of her hand again, stroking her skin until the hairs on her forearms stood to attention. “How did you know where to find me?” Killian asked softly.

Emma dipped her gaze, watching her fingers smooth over the dark grey duvet cover that covered Killian’s lower half. “I followed my heart.”

“As well as your nose,” Killian chuckled. Emma narrowed her eyes at him and she cocked her head to one side quizzically. “What?” Killian asked innocently, halting the way he caressed her digits against his chest.

“Nothing,” Emma smiled, shaking off the comment.

“It’s clearly something,” Killian insisted. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips, trying to draw the truth out of her with flattery. “Come on, love, tell me,” he pouted.

“It’s just something my father says,” Emma shrugged, looking away at the thought of her family. She had left Misthaven in such a rush, and on such awful circumstances, she wondered what kind of impact it had been having on her mother. They were close, and she loved both her parents, but sometimes her father was too overbearing and Emma sought a more womanly solace in her mother. “Said.”

Killian looked at her confused now, his hair flopping over his eyes with he tilted his head and gave her a prompting look. It wasn’t lost on Killian that he now knew who Emma really was and who her father was. The Misthaven pack was legendary, literally the stuff of legends, and every wolf, mongrel or otherwise, knew of the battle for Misthaven. Never in a million years did Killian think he would be caught up in pack politics, and never in a lifetime did he think Emma would be the heir to the most renowned wolf pack ever known.

“Follow your heart, as well as your nose,” Emma clarified finally after a sigh. “My father always told me that was how he met my mother. At first she wasn’t interested in becoming his mate, but he didn’t give up.” She smiled, recalling the old photographs of her parents that were kept securely for their eyes only lest any Misthaven enemies find out the identity of Snow. “He followed his heart, as well as his nose.”

“He sounds like a noble wolf,” Killian said softly. His words were pure, and he meant what he had said, but he couldn’t help but feel if the alpha knew who he was, and what he had been doing with his daughter, then he might not be so humble. 

“He is,” Emma smiled, looking back to him finally. “You remind me a lot of him.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Killian scoffed half-heartedly. “I’m probably not nearly as handsome.”

Emma laughed, her head falling forward until her forehead was pressed against Killian’s chest and her hands were feeling the bristle of his chest hair under her fingertips again. She flexed her fingers over his half-healed burn left by the cattle prod and felt Killian wrap an arm around her, holding her to him as she laughed. He joined her and the vibrations from his chest tickled her skin. The sound of her giggling was like music to his ears, her features weathered and worn with worry over the last few days softening when she lifted her head to face him once more.

“You’re such a dork,” she squeaked on another giggle, the tip of her nose brushing his.

“And you love me for it,” Killian smirked.

Emma froze unexpectedly, her cheeks flushing with red at his admission, her throat swelling with her need to swallow, something she had suddenly forgotten how to do. Killian watched her smile fade only to be replaced with a dazed expression and he felt his heart begin to thump harder in his chest. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out, not like that, but in a way he was glad, because judging by Emma’s reaction, he knew she felt the same pull that he did.

“Emma,” he began, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She blinked, looking deep into the dark grey hues before her. “I love you,” he breathed, his lips twitching into a nervous, boyish smile. “I love you,” he repeated more confidently, sliding his hand to cup her face. “Whatever happens next, know that I love you and will always love you.”

Emma clutched his hand to her face, nuzzling into his palm. Killian had seen so much of her and she felt like he knew her better than she knew herself. Finally she gave him a smile and he let out the breath he had been holding. “I love you too,” she smiled sweetly. 

“Oh thank God,” Killian sighed happily and pulled her face to his one more time. Emma smirked against his lips, squealing when he snaked his arms around her waist and tried to pull her onto his lap. Emma resisted and placed her hands against his chest, halting his advances and pulling her lips from his reluctantly.

“Killian, wait,” she said, struggling to free from his grasp.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian rasped. “You’re just so irresistible…”

“I’m in heat,” Emma said shyly, shuffling her weight away from him to the edge of the bed. “We can’t.”

“Oh,” Killian said, his own blush creeping up in his cheeks as he shuffled the duvet to hide his semi-hard erection. “It’s bad form to make love in your brother’s bed also,” he joked, trying to make her feel a little more comfortable. It helped. Emma laughed again, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her bottom lip. “Though, if you keep doing that,” he growled again, eyes focused on her lower lip tucked under her pearly white teeth.

“Stop,” Emma warned him lightly. Killian gave her a dark stare, full of lust and want as he reached for her hand again, gently tugging on her fingers so she wasn’t so far away. “How about I go make us some coffee?” Emma offered, springing to her feet and straightening out her shirt. She was met with a pout that quickly turned into a smirk that meant Killian could smell her arousal, another human reaction she couldn’t control. 

“I can smell you,” he sang, quirking his eyebrow at her.

“I’m just going to...um…” Emma stumbled over her own words as she backed towards the door, gasping when her back bumped into the wooden surface and Killian laughed again, wrinkling his nose at her. “I’ll be back,” she said hurriedly, twisting the door handle and slipping through the door behind her.

When Emma was on the other side of the door she let out a long breath. Her wolf heat made her just as horny, but there were complicating factors now, and if she had to be the wolf of reason, she would be. Killian was injured, still healing, even if he wanted to have sex, but he was almost certainly under the spell of her pheromones, so unable to resist her. And there was the little matter of pregnancy. Emma could conceive during her wolf heat if she mated with a wolf, and it wouldn’t go over too well if she returned to Misthaven about to have a litter.

“May I help you?” A male voice came from beside her, shaking her from her daydream as she pulled open a cupboard in the kitchen in search of a few cups. She jumped back, her defenses at the ready, fists up and legs parted in a southpaw stance as she regarded the intruder. He gave her a raised eyebrow and a quick, soft smile when he noticed her panic, digging his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocking back on his heels. “It’s just, you seem to be in my loft and I don’t remember inviting anyone over today, especially with my being out of the country.”

“Liam?” Emma ventured, fists tightening a little.

“Aye,” he nodded, casting a glance around his own kitchen that seemed he was now a stranger in. Emma paused, waiting for more of his response. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners,” he berated himself quickly, pulling a hand from his pocket and offering it to her. “Liam Jones.”

Emma eyed his outstretched hand suspiciously before taking his hand, shaking it slowly. “Emma Nolan,” she said with a narrowed gaze.

“Jolly good,” Liam smiled. “Cups are in the cupboard up there,” he nodded to the single wall mounted cupboard behind her and Emma followed his direction, turning around to look at the closed cupboard. “If you are making coffee for my brother, there is freshly ground in the fridge, although I’ve been out of the country for a spell so it might not be as good anymore.” 

Emma frowned at his polite, very British ramble. She lowered her stance, relaxing back into an easy position as he looked around the room again as if he was looking for somebody. 

“Speaking of which, would you kindly point me in the direction of my beloved brother?” He smiled at her again and Emma could see the family resemblance between the brothers. Killian was just like Liam it seemed, only with much straighter hair and a roguish demeanour that she was sure had earned him more than a few scrapes in his time. Liam seemed more refined, a straighter arrow of sorts, and if she wasn’t intruding in his territory, Emma might have laughed at him.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Emma murmured.

“Excellent,” Liam said sarcastically, the grimace on his face accompanied with a sigh as he made his way out of the kitchen area and across the loft towards his bedroom. “It was nice to meet you Emma Nolan,” he called to her, giving her a salute and then pushing the door to his bedroom open and walking inside.

“On your feet, soldier!” Liam grunted at this brother and Killian’s head snapped up to meet his brother’s gaze.

“Brother!” he declared happily. Unable to move from his spot, Killian gave Liam a wave to encourage him to the side of the bed he was resting on. “How was your trip?”

Liam looked over his brother with confusion in his eyes. He took up the same stance he had in the kitchenette, hands in pockets and feet rocking up onto the balls of his feet and back down again. Killian knew it was a habit Liam did when he was thinking, or trying to assess a situation without actually asking any questions. Although, judging by Killian’s appearance, it was pretty apparent what his questions would be.

“That’s going to leave a scar,” Liam noted with less enthusiasm in his voice, nodding towards Killian and motioning to the underside of his own chin. 

“You should see the other guy,” Killian laughed nervously when he noticed Liam looking over the abrasions on his sternum.

“Hmm,” Liam sounded deep in his throat, unimpressed. “What happened?” He stepped closer to Killian, inspecting the wounds more closely. “And why are you in my loft?”

“Ah,” Killian began. “Funny story. I got kidnapped, tortured and Ruby thought I would be safe here, if I remember correctly. I was in wolf form.”

“Wait, what?” Liam blinked, stepping even closer, concern etched all over his face.

“Remember the wolf I got into it with when we first came to America?” Liam nodded in response. “This was him. Evil bastard. Chained me to a tree and…”

“Bloody hell, Killian! Are you alright now?” Liam cut him off. He didn’t need to hear any of the details about how his brother was hurt. Seeing him was enough.

“I am now,” Killian nodded. “I was in wolf form for almost three days.”

“Crumbs! And you didn’t see it coming?” Liam inquired further. Killian shook his head. “But you are alright now?” 

“Yes,” Killian frowned at his brother’s line of questioning, his suspicion justified when Liam slapped the back of his head with a huge, open palm. “Ow!” Killian screeched, clutching the back of his head and rubbing at the spot through his hair. 

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Liam teased angrily, giving his brother another tap to the back of the skull.

“What was that for?” Killian whined, checking his fingertips dramatically in case his older brother had managed to draw blood.

“That was for managing to get yourself kidnapped,” Liam growled. He raised his hand again and struck his unsuspecting brother once more.

“Alright, stop it!” Killian implored childishly, swatting his brother’s hand away from his head.

“And that was for bringing a pureblood princess into my loft!” Liam whispered, the rage still evident in his voice. He couldn’t hide it anymore. He had recognised Emma as soon as he had laid eyes on her, the ‘kidnapped’ daughter of David Nolan, and when she had confirmed who she was, Liam saw red.

Killian glanced at him sideways, swallowing hard. “I should have known you had no real concern,” he huffed, still rubbing his skull with a frown.

“Oh, I’m concerned,” Liam said firmly, pacing at the side of the bed. “Do you have any idea _who_ that is?” Liam asked quickly, pointing to the closed door. “Who is in _my_ kitchen?” Liam bit out through clenched teeth. “And she reeks of you, you bloody idiot!”

“I didn’t know who she was when I met her at the bar…”

“At the bar?” Liam laughed, aghast. “You were in a public place with the heir of Misthaven?” Liam was talking to Killian, but also to himself, his previously calm exterior crumbling away. He paced back and forth, his shoes creaking against the wooden floor on each twist of a length. He pinched his bottom lip as he thought, his mind racing. 

“What’s the problem?” Killian asked his brother with a shrug. 

Liam stopped and turned to face his brother exasperated. “The problem, little brother, is there is a reward for her safe return.”

“Younger,” Killian scowled but Liam ignored him.

“And you, you bloody fool, have a bounty on your head!” Liam clenched his fist and grit his teeth, the frustration for his younger brother evident in his words. It wasn’t just frustration though, Killian knew that now. Liam was scared. He was more clued up on werewolf pack politics than Killian had ever cared to be, but now it seemed like he was going to find out more about it, whether he cared to or not. “Why do you think I came home early? News travels fast.”

“Well, fuck,” Killian sighed, flopping back into the pillows.

“The alpha wants her back, Killian. He wants her back for her arranged marriage to his beta, and he wants whoever she has been hiding with, dead. That’s you, brother. You have a target on your hide.” Liam gasped, almost out of breath.

“I know,” Killian admitted in a quiet voice. “The beta is Graham.”

Liam’s face contorted into a grimace and he arched his neck at Killian’s words. “Graham? It can’t be,” he frowned. “Graham and Ruby are…”

Liam’s words drifted off with realisation. His childhood friend and someone he loved like a sister had not only got herself involved with a werewolf, potentially risking her life as well as his, but she had fallen in love with David Nolan’s beta. Liam had never known his name before, but he had heard stories, tales of his might and hunter-like aggression that would explain exactly why he held such a high pack position.

“He is and if you think I’ve complicated things, Ruby is seven months pregnant.” Liam stared at his brother in shock, eyes wide and the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Liam’s face paled and he covered his mouth with his palm, exhaling into her hand exasperated. “Welcome home, brother,” Killian said sadly, knowing Ruby’s predicament too.

“This is insane,” Liam grumbled to himself, balling his fists at the side of his temples. He resumed his pacing and tapped his head in a steady rhythm.

“Emma stays,” Killian said firmly. “She stays with me.”

Liam spun on his heels until he was facing his brother and gave him a frustrated, clenched jawed expression. “Get her out of the loft, Killian. I don’t care how, just get her out.” Liam voice was stern, just like when they were kids and he had become Killian’s father figure in the absence of their real dad. Brennan had always left Liam in charge and Killian had, until his teens, obeyed his father’s wishes and respected his brother.

“No,” Killian said defiantly.

“I beg your pardon?” Liam blinked. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

“I heard you perfectly,” Killian sassed.

“Jesus Christ, Killian!” Liam growled, his voice an octave higher. “I can’t have her here. She’s in heat and before we know it Neverland will be all over our arses.”

“I won’t send her back to her fate,” Killian growled low, careful not to raise his voice too much. Emma was in the next room and could probably hear their discourse already, even with the huge soundproof door between them. “We are in love, Liam, and I will keep her safe.”

Liam snorted a laugh through his nose, planting one hand on his hip and running the other through his curled, brown locks. “Brother, what do you know of love?”

The sadness in Liam’s voice stopped Killian’s defensiveness instantly. Killian loved Emma, there was no doubt about it, but Liam had also once loved a woman. Lily. She was human, accepting of his werewolf nature and Liam had convinced himself he could protect her when the governing pack of his state, the Neverland pack, had found out of their relationship. How, they still didn’t know, but they murdered her in cold blood and justified their actions under the protection of werewolf kind.

Liam knew it was all a lie, he always had. Unbeknownst to Killian, Liam had found their father many years ago and rather than expose his sibling to the seedy underworld of werewolf pack politics, Liam and Brennan had decided to keep their association a secret. It was dishonest, and Liam hated doing it, but Brennan ran with a rough crowd, essentially owned by the very pack who had taken his love from him. He had told him of Lily’s plotted murder. They were keeping Brennan in check after he had been caught trying to return to England, making sure he knew his place and using his family as leverage. Lily was first, and they promised to kill each of his mongrel sons if he displeased them anymore.

“You can’t protect her, Killian,” Liam told him, his voice more mature and level. “Lily’s death wasn’t random. I’ve lied to you.” Liam turned to face his brother’s shocked expression, his eyes laced with hurt.

“About what?” Killian grumbled, feeling the rage building up inside of him at his brother’s admission of betrayal.

“Father,” Liam said softly and looked away from his brother, unable to watch the betrayal on his face. “I found him, and we’ve been in contact a while. Years even. Lily was a warning, to him, to us.” Liam’s voice cracked and Killian listened with a pained heart. “Father was trying to return home but was caught at the airport before he had time to board his flight. Mother had already died, so his trip would have been fruitless, but the pack knew of us, knew we were in America, so to teach him a lesson, they had Lily executed.”

“Liam, I…” Killian began, unable to process the information. He had loved Lily like a sister, and her death had left a hole in his heart that he thought he might never fill again. Killian also couldn’t remember the last time he saw Liam smile, his happiness ripped from him that day now making much more sense.

“I watched them tear her apart,” Liam growled angrily at the memory, tears springing up in his eyes and reddening his cheeks. He stared at a spot on the floor, recalling the screams in his ears as five huge wolves had ripped his love limb from limb. He lifted his head towards Killian, blinking a tear away. “You can’t protect anyone from them,” he sniffed, quickly wiping his tears away. “No one is safe.”

Killian watched his brother’s profile, the tear lines staining the weathered skin on his face. He was angry because Liam had not told him about their father sooner, but he was overwhelmed with the possibility of seeing his father again. There was no point in being angry at Liam for keeping the secret because he knew if the tables were turned, he would have done exactly the same thing to protect the ones he loved.

“Tell her what you are,” Liam said sadly, making his way to the bedroom door. Killian watched him move, his jaw muscles twitching a little as he clenched his teeth. “Make her leave, Killian, by any means necessary,” Liam said solemnly, stopping to look at his brother one more time. “It’s the only way you can protect her.”

\--

Emma couldn’t quite hear what the brothers were saying, but from the other side of the loft she could at least tell it was heated. When Liam Jones burst through the thick, likely soundproof door, she jumped a little in her seat on the couch, leaping to her feet when she saw him emerge. She watched him whizz through the loft, pulling the huge, sliding front door across and exiting without a word.

Had he been crying? Emma was sure she had seen the dark lines down his face and could smell the saltiness in the air. Her wolf heat senses were impeccable, the tiniest traces of the mundane giving her a little more insight into every person she was meeting. Liam had been crying, the smell of his tears and sweat glands overpowering. And Killian’s heart was about to beat out of his chest, echoing through her ears like a big bass drum.

Emma wasted no time moving towards the bedroom, tentatively pushing the cracked door open and poking her head around the frame. Killian was still in bed, his body healing much slower in human form and she could hear him grinding his teeth as he stared at the wall beside him. He was fidgeting, his fists clenching and then relaxing beside him on the duvet, his legs shifting sideways uncomfortably, which made him wince in pain.

“Are you okay?” Emma pressed gently, moving into the room. “Liam left in a hurry.”

Killian didn’t look at her. How could he? Liam was, annoyingly so, right yet again. How could he protect her in his current state? How could he ever hope to be anything other than what he was? Emma might see him as all wolf, but when it came to purebloods, basically royalty, he would be nothing more than a mongrel. Killian’s heart all but shattered in his chest.

“You have to leave,” he said, tone flat and eyes still averted to the cold, harsh brickwork beside him. 

“Now?” Emma frowned. “Have we upset Liam by staying here? Did you tell him it was Ruby’s idea? I’ll help you get dressed…” 

“Emma,” Killian said her name again, the way she always loved, but this time it was curt and short and there was something else in his voice that made Emma’s blood turn to ice in her veins. She swallowed hard as she realised he wasn’t looking at her and the lack of affection in his words was on purpose. “ _You_ have to leave.”

“But…” Emma tried, her voice small. 

“You can’t be here with me,” Killian forced out, a lump appearing in his throat. “It’s not safe. Walsh will find me and he will come for you if you stay. Please, just go.” Killian had no idea how he managed to sound so calm, the back of his throat stinging and his eyelids pricking with tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Emma said defiantly, moving to his side. Killian couldn’t move his body, but when Emma sat on the bed beside him and reached for his hand, he pulled it away coldly. Emma’s hand froze, suspended over the duvet in shock. “Killian?” she asked him, his name holding all of the questions she wanted to ask in a single word.

“Just go,” he snapped, finally turning to look at her. Emma was taken back, her skin rippling with goosebumps and the back of her ears turning hot. She pulled her hand away from him as if she had been burned, and the look on her face made Killian’s heart stop.

Liam’s voice rang in his head, his instructions clear. _By any means necessary._

“We can’t be together,” Killian told her firmly, blinking and averting his gaze down to his lap. “You have to go back to Misthaven. You’ll be safe there.”

“I’ll be safe here,” Emma insisted. “Graham can help us if Walsh comes back.”

“Stop, Emma,” Killian halted her with a harsh tone. He chewed on his bottom lip and finally lifted his head so he could look into her watery eyes once more. He was a bastard and he deserved everything he got for what he was about to do, but it was for Emma. It would always be for Emma. “I don’t love you,” he lied, grinding his jaw. “You were just a bit of fun.”

Emma half laughed half cried a small noise, eyes widening in disbelief. She began to shake, the anger inside of her bubbling to the surface. She was not a weak wolf and she would never be a weak woman, defending herself physically and emotionally wherever she could, but Killian’s words had taken her by surprise and her only reaction was the half snorted nervous laugh.

“And I lied to you,” Killian admitted, the first time his words contained any sort of truth. “I’m…” he paused, looking away again. He hated what he was, what he had been taught about his kind and how Emma was the only wolf who had ever made him feel complete. Saying it out loud suddenly became the hardest thing he had ever had to do, the words feeling like poison on his tongue. “I’m a mongrel.”

Emma physically moved away from him and was taken back by his admission. Her eyes flicked over his torso, unable to believe what she was hearing, frowning in thought. Nothing made sense. Her mind was racing. Ten minutes ago they were struggling to contain their lust and now Killian was pushing her away.

“I don’t believe you,” Emma sniffed, tears tumbling down over the apple of her cheek and falling to her lap. Killian was lying to her, he had to be, because Emma had never known anyone in her entire life to be more at one with his wolf nature than he was. She shook her head from side to side, blinking away more tears. “Why are you saying these things?”

“It’s true,” Killian growled, angry with himself more than anything. He should have known Emma wouldn’t leave without a fight. “My mother was human,” he told her, realising he was falling into compassion once again. “That night, in the bar, you were nothing more than a challenge,” he lied again, fighting back his own tears. “I wanted to see if I could fuck a real wolf.”

Emma couldn’t hide her sobs any longer, letting her cries fill the room. It took everything Killian had left not to reach out to her, to comfort her and tell her how sorry he was. He despised himself for her hurt, wished he could take it all back, but more than anything he needed her safe. Misthaven could give her that and sometimes if you loved someone, the kindest thing was to let them go.

“You bastard,” Emma snarled and Killian knew he had succeeded in at least making her angry enough to consider leaving. There was darkness in her eyes, the greyest hues overtaking her green with her rage and a loud crack rang out in the room as her flat, open palm hit the side of his face. “I thought you were different, but it turns out you are just a dog.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian said before he could stop himself, the sting in his cheek much less than he deserved as he averted his gaze to look anywhere but at her. Physical torture was nothing compared to how he felt seeing Emma hurt, especially since he was the cause.

“Sorry?” Emma laughed at him. “I don’t buy it. Whatever you are trying to sell, I am not buying. Liam said something to you, something that has you scared, and you think pushing me away is going to fix it?” She sobbed, and Killian looked up at her when she moved close to him. He wanted to stop her, but his body wouldn’t react in any other way than to melt into her touch when she stroked her hand over his jaw. “We should be facing this together, not letting things tear us apart.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian whimpered, his emotions finally spilling over as he clutched her hand to his face. She was right. She was always right, but there was still the small matter of his lineage which was the only truth to is his whole charade. “Emma, I love you more than my heart can bear sometimes. I’m just…”

“Talk to me,” Emma pleaded, her tone softening. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on in here.” She gave him a half smile and tapped his temple, smoothing her fingertips over the area immediately afterwards. “Pushing me away isn’t going to fix anything.”

“I’m scared,” Killian admitted, his eyes flicking over her features. “I’m scared of so many things.”

“Tell me,” Emma prompted, moving impossibly closer to him and resting her hand on his chest. His breath hitched at her contact and Emma looked down to see the scars that littered his torso, some older than others, but every one telling a story. Maybe one day she would ask him about them, but not today. Her fingertips tenderly brushed over the raised lumps of flesh as she urged him to continue.

“I’m scared I can’t protect you,” he began, a sob catching his words. “I’m scared of your pack finding out about us,” he clutched her hand over his heart, squeezing her fingers. “I know who you are, Emma. I know who your father is and I’m scared of him finding out.”

“About us?” Emma asked gently, swiping her hand across her face to dry away her tears.

“Yes, and so much more,” Killian admitted. “I honestly am a mongrel, Emma, that part was the truth. My mother was human and I’ve lived on the fringes of humanity my whole life, never quite fitting in because I was different.” Emma didn’t move away this time and he continued. “You showed me what it was to be a wolf, showed me my true nature. Liam has always been more human, like our mother, but that was never for me.”

“You always felt like a piece of you was missing?” Emma offered, brushing her fingers through his chest hair.

“Exactly!” Killian exclaimed with an eager nod, forgetting himself for a second and wincing back against the pillows in pain. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her palm with a smile. “And now that I’ve found it, I never want to let you go.”

“So don’t,” Emma breathed. “We can work things out with my father.”

Killian smiled at her sweetly, lowering his head and shaking it slowly from side to side. “Love, I don’t know much about werewolf lore, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be welcome at Misthaven.”

“Maybe not now, but maybe in the future. My father is old fashioned but he is a reasonable man,” Emma said unconvincingly. She didn’t even believe her own words.

“Is he as reasonable a wolf as he is a man?” Killian smiled weakly. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but because of who you are and what I am, things might get a bit difficult.” Killian pulled her to him, letting her lay against his half-healed ribs and ignoring the pain as she tucked herself in under his arm. He wrapped his arm around her and sighed contently, turning his head and kissing the soft warmth of her hair, ignoring the pull of skin slowly healing under his chin.

“I’m ready,” Emma said softly, stroking through his chest hair and watching her fingers intently. “Whatever happens, I love you too.”

Killian smiled and rested his cheek against Emma’s hair, stroking through the tips of the golden locks that flowed down over her back. It would not be easy, and there were so many factors to consider now. It felt like everything was against them but if the stories of old were to be believed, then they were fated to be two halves of the same moon and live their lives as one together, forever. Killian’s hand idled at the base of her spine, drawing slow circles over the fabric of her top before he stopped suddenly.

“Killian, what’s wrong?” Emma asked quickly, rolling her eyes up toward his face, careful not to disturb his healing body too much.

“Nothing, love,” Killian assured her. “I just had an idea.”

“Oh?” Emma inquired, intrigued.

“What if your father cannot be swayed? Do you think there may be another way we can be together?” Killian asked softly. In a way he knew her answer would be a definite yes, but deep down he had a new fear, since discovering her true identity, that he would never be enough. Half a wolf was never going to be a full wolf.

“Do you?” Emma asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Killian nodded slowly. “I need to talk to my father.”


	16. Chapter 16

Every wolf knew that they healed much quicker in wolf form, but Killian had shifted back to human to comfort Emma as soon as he was able. He could tell she was going crazy, worrying over his battered body, tending to his wounds as if he were an injured dog she had taken in, but not really sure of what she was doing. As soon as he could, he had shifted back into human form, his muscles still tight and aching from his forced change, but nonetheless on the mend, the need to be with her stronger than the pain.

His joints had reformed, previously splintered and broken from the backward angle of his change, and his senses had returned to normal function. And if he thought Emma was incredible smelling in wolf form, it was nothing compared to when he had changed back to human form and been more attracted to her than he ever had. When she had told him she had her wolf heat it had all made sense, and even his extensive injuries didn’t stop him from trying to woo her into bed with him.

After Liam had left and he had told her of his plan to talk to their father as soon as he was back to form, Emma had insisted that they try and get some sleep. Neither of them had really had much lately and Emma was grateful for his human form to snuggle up to, but as Killian felt her hand fist against the contours of his chest and a soft whimper escape her lips on a sleepy sigh, he was instantly transported back to earlier that day when he had craved her.

He needed her. It wasn’t just want, it was an insatiable obsession to feel her skin against his and to taste her on his tongue. He was like a wolf possessed with a one-track mind for only her, so, ignoring the objection of his almost healed muscles, he craned his neck to inhale the smell of vanilla and lavender from her hair. His cock twitched beneath the covers and he shifted into a more comfortable position, even the mere scent of her conjuring up visions so explicit he growled low in his chest.

“Killian?” Emma asked groggily, her voice laced with worry. He couldn’t blame her. She had slept so lightly lately in case he needed her in the night, and even if it weren’t of a medical inclination, he did need her.

“I’m sorry,” Killian offered into the darkness of Liam’s bedroom. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Is everything okay?” Emma said through a yawn, pushing herself into a sitting position beside him and the oversized tee she had worn to bed slipping off her shoulder and exposing her delicate skin. Killian gulped, his wolf vision pinpoint accurate in the dark as her creamy skin came into view and he found himself imagining her rosy pink lips wrapped around his erection, making himself harden even more.

Killian closed his eyes tight, shaking his head and trying to drown out the sounds of Emma’s pulse and her half sleepy yawn and what they were doing to him. It was incredible. He had never been around a purebred wolf before when she was in heat and it was so much more than he could explain. He had been with women before, humans on their period or approaching their monthly cycle, and those turned him on beyond comprehension, but the pull of a she-wolf in heat was like a drug. It made males do some crazy things and as it turned out, he wasn’t immune.

“Emma, you need to…” he grumbled darkly, his words forced out of his mouth by his reason whilst his lust desperately tried to escape. He wasn’t able to fuck her the way he wanted to, his body was nowhere near healed enough for that sort of strenuous activity, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying if he let the need win.

“Are you okay?” Emma pressed with concern, moving closer to him and resting her hand to his bicep. “What’s going on?”

Killian’s eyes flew open and fell on the searing hot fingertips burning into his muscles. He let out a long breath he had been holding and felt every hair on his entire body stand to attention, the goosebumps rippling over his skin and the tingle in his groin turning into an uncomfortable ache. “Your heat,” he managed weakly, lifting his darkened stare until their eyes were fixed on each other. He grabbed her hand from his arm and moved it to the tented cover over his crotch, sighing with relief when the weight of her hand pressed down on his length. “It’s doing things to me,” he groaned.

Emma felt her face redden, a creeping heat covering the apple of her cheeks, her lips suddenly turning dry. “In the middle of the night?” she choked out, the lilt of her voice nothing more than a squeak. Her hand remained on Killian’s erection, his gently laying over the top of hers and she didn’t try to remove it.

“Every second of every minute I am near you,” Killian growled. He felt like a foolish teenager in love, unable to contain his arousal with a pretty girl, but the thrall of Emma’s wolf heat was so much more than he could ever hope to contain.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said sheepishly, tracing the ridge of his member with her fingertip. He moaned a breathy sigh and let his hand slip from hers, his arm falling like a dead weight next to his thigh. He relaxed back into the pillows, letting his body slip further down the bed and ignoring the protest of his almost fully healed scrotum as Emma’s hand slipped up to his waist.

“Don’t be, love,” Killian soothed. “I’ve never been around a she-wolf in heat before,” he admitted with a frustrated tone. “It’s not your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong, but Gods if you don’t smell amazing...”

Emma’s skin prickled at his words. She could tell he was trying to act the gentlemen and fight his urges, the tension evident in his words, but he was clearly losing the battle. “Maybe I could go and sleep in the lounge?” Emma suggested, still lazily stroking his length. It was like her own body was betraying her words, the pull of her wolf heat making her want him just as much as he clearly wanted her.

Killian growled, the sound rumbling through his chest and his hips bucking up off the mattress in an attempt to feel more of her, the action mimicking the image he was seeing behind his eyelids of watching himself slowly inching inside of her. When Emma pulled her hand away he was lost, but his eyes flew open to see her crossing her arms and pulling her shirt over her head in one swift motion that left her gloriously naked beside him.

“You’re not wearing knickers,” he gasped, clenching his jaw. “No wonder I am drunk on your scent.”

“I was having a naughty dream,” Emma said softly, biting her bottom lip.

“About me?” Killian grinned, his erection growing impossibly harder.

“Yes,” Emma breathed, tentatively leaning forward up on her knees and bracing her weight against the headboard behind him. The hardness of her nipple brushed his shoulder and he felt his heartbeat pick up in his chest, the blood rushing to his ears and the warmth of her breath against his ear making him begin to pant. “You were being a bad boy.”

“Oh,” Killian breathed, his words cut short when he felt Emma trace her thumb over the pulse in his neck. He shifted his weight again to try and relieve some of the pressure in his groin, letting the softness of the sheet slide over his tip with an audible moan. He slid his arm through Emma’s legs and she parted them to accommodate, her arousal filling his nostrils and overpowering his senses. It was like being blinded by a light and he clutched at the globe of her behind to ground him.

“You were eating me out,” Emma purred into his ear, rocking her hips forward over his forearm for friction and grinning when she felt him dig his fingernails into her flesh. “Your tongue is…” She paused, hissing through her teeth. “I’m still so wet.” Killian felt the tip of his rock hard erection begin to ooze. “I’ve changed my mind,” she smirked seductively. “You were being a good boy.”

“Can I be a good boy now?” Killian asked, almost a plea. If there was really such a thing as ‘puppy dog eyes’ Killian had them and he looked up at Emma with an open mouthed smirk.

Rationalisation hit Emma suddenly and she almost growled to herself. “What about…” She gasped, her hand gripping the headboard even harder as Killian slipped a thumb between her folds.

“What about what, love?” He teased, watching her squirm as he swiped his thumb over her nub again.

“Fuck,” Emma breathed, unable to form any other words. She pinched her eyes closed and her hand flattened out over his chest, her fingernails clawing over the fresh scar tissue that was there, making him smirk even harder.

Emma rocked her hips forward, sliding herself over Killian’s hand, teasing the entrance to her core with the heel of his palm. She worried her lip again, biting down on it so hard that she felt the skin go numb, the painful throb of blood behind her teeth matching the pulsing of her clit. Killian watched her, beguiled by her more than usual, addicted to the way she was so readily wanton. When he stopped, pulling his hand away, she whimpered.

“What about what, Emma?” he asked again, skimming his hand over her bare thigh and loving the feel of her skin tightening under his fingertips.

“My heat,” Emma bit out angrily, her rage directed at herself and current life situation more than anything. She shouldn’t be risking pregnancy, and she doubted Killian knew where his brother kept his condoms. “Your injuries,” she added feebly, the smell of her own arousal turning her on even more.

“I think I’m okay,” Killian smirked. “We don’t have to have sex, but if I don’t taste you soon, I might lose my sanity.” He slid down the bed even more, a soft grunt escaping his throat when a particularly niggling muscle decided to twitch, but once he was laying flat he wrapped a hand around Emma’s thigh and began kneading the flesh. She gave him a quizzical look followed by a coy smile as she read his mind, swinging her leg over him and wiggling around until his head was nestled between her legs. She looked down at him, his excited expression making her core clench.

“You want this?” She cooed, shaking her ass, his hot breath millimetres from her sex.

“Gods, yes,” he growled, the words ground out through clenched teeth. Her scent was intoxicating, dizzying, a sweetness that only she could offer him. His hands found her ass again, fingers splayed out over the flesh as he pulled her towards him. “Sit on my face, Emma. Let me have it.”

“Beg,” Emma said firmly, forcing her hips rigid so he couldn’t reach her. He cast a glance up her body once more and met her gaze, tongue darting out to retrieve a droplet of her nectar that had found its ways onto his lips. He felt himself bob against his stomach, the threat of his own orgasm bubbling just under the surface.

“Please,” Killian purred darkly, fingers digging into the globes of her ass. “Please, Emma, sit on my face.”

Her name on his lips was enough for her to relent and Emma lowered herself until she was nestled over his mouth. Killian wasted no time lapping at her folds, teasing his tongue through them and nuzzling his nose against her hard clit, moaning his pleasure against her skin. She was wet, so much wetter than he imagined and the bouquet of her arousal grew stronger with every swipe of his tongue.

He wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her against his face as he teased her entrance with his tongue, dipping it into the pulsating muscles whilst his own arousal strained towards her, jutting up as it leaked pre-cum onto the line of hair over his abdomen. Emma grabbed the headboard, fingernails digging into the dark grey fabric before she arched her back into his ministrations, rocking her hips in time with his tongue. She let go of the headboard to lean back and when she took him in hand, Killian almost came.

“So fucking hard,” Emma growled huskily, stroking him slower than he was licking her, teasing him with her touch. She loved the way his legs shook when she reached his sensitive tip, twisting her hand and rubbing her palm over the reddened end to use his leaked arousal as lubrication. “This for me?” She purred, giving his erection a little squeeze.

Killian gave a small nod, mumbling his reply against her folds as he increased the flick of his tongue over her clit until he felt her shudder, at which point he stopped and ran a flat tongue over her entire sex. Emma whimpered, relaxing as her nearly there orgasm ebbed away, and looked down between her legs to catch his cocky smirk.

“Teasing fucker,” she accused coyly, biting her bottom lip again. “I think I liked you better as a wolf.”

Killian all but chuckled against her nub, pulling it between his lips and sucking on the rock hard flesh hungrily. Emma’s cries echoed in his ears and she raised herself up on her shaking knees, quickly pulling her clit out of his torturous lips and leaving him dumbfounded.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, a lick of concern in his voice.

“Hell no!” Emma shimmied herself down his torso, careful not to drag her skin over his newly formed scars too much, and settled herself over his hips. When he didn’t protest in pain, Emma sat back on her heels and tossed her hair over her shoulder, leaning forward again and scraping her nails over his chest. “I just want…” She sang sweetly, rubbing her sodden folds over his straining erection and whimpering when his length rubbed her clit just right.

“We can’t,” Killian ground out, hands finding her hips and halting her humping. She groaned is dissatisfaction.

“I know, but I want to feel you,” She whined with a grin, rocking her hips against him again and revelling in the way it made him stiffen beneath her. “We can do this, right?” she teased, grinding down onto him with less care than she had first intended, her mouth so close to his he could feel her breathy pants against his smirk.

“Fuck, yes,” Killian nodded quickly, eyes rolling back in his head and fingernails digging into her hips. “We can do this,” he panted, meeting her grinding with short upward thrusts of his hips that pushed his length through her folds and made her gasp. “You can use me however you like, love.”

Emma fell forward, grabbing his face in her hands and crushed her lips to his. It wasn’t sex, not by their standards, but it was hot and it was raw and it made her skin itch as her orgasm teased the nerves at the base of her spine. Emma’s tongue teased the seam of Killian’s lips, begging for entry and when he dropped his jaw to allow her access, her tongue dived in, tasting his own and swiping over his teeth with breathy moans.

Emma flattened herself to his chest, his ordeal long forgotten as she increased the pace of her hips, teasing his rock hard cock between her slippery folds with long, determined strokes. Killian met her thrusts, the skin over his erection shifting up and down and when his tip teased her entrance she mumbled more profanity into his mouth. Killian wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady as he took over the pace, rubbing his length against her nub faster and faster until he felt her stiffen in his arms.

Emma broke their kiss suddenly, one of her hands grabbing at his hair because it was the only thing she could as she bounced up and down with his rhythmic assault. She threw her head back and Killian took advantage, kissing the underside of her jaw and loving the way her cries vibrated through her throat and against his lips.

“Right there,” she whispered in a high pitched tone. “Don’t stop, Killian. Right fucking there!”

Killian couldn’t hold his orgasm if he wanted to, the throbbing of his member intensifying against Emma’s clit as he came over his stomach and sent her crashing into the walls of oblivion with him. Her entire body went rigid, the heat in her core suddenly turning into a throbbing sensation and the arousal coating her thighs and Killian’s lap cooling in the chill of the room. When her whimpers subsided and turned into almost pained cries, Killian slowed his pace, the sensation in his tip almost unbearably painful but he wanted to make sure she had ridden out her climax, and as Emma relaxed against his wiry chest hair with a smile, he knew she had.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian blushed a little, loosening his grip on her and smoothing his hands over the base of her spine. Her nerves still buzzed under the skin there and Emma shuddered. “You got me a tad too excited there.”

“Don’t ever apologise for that,” Emma chuckled. “That was…” she let out a breathy laugh, her cheeks flushing red.

“Really, really bad form in my brother’s bed,” Killian laughed and when Emma chuckled with him and rested her forehead to his sternum, he tenderly kissed the top of her hair.

“I’m sure he won’t kill us,” Emma teased, lifting her head to press her lips to his lower lip. “He’ll want you to get better any way possible and intimacy heals.” Killian raised an eyebrow at her and his lips twitched into a sideways smirk. “It does!” Emma giggled, pushing herself up until she was sat astride his hips once more, surveying the mess they had made. Killian’s stomach was covered in his thick, white release and some had found its way onto Emma’s flat belly. She gave him an incredulous look through a sideways smile.

“Look at the mess we’ve made,” Killian teased, running his tongue over his teeth. “How long does your wolf heat last again?”

Emma grinned, feeling her sex pulse with need once more. “We should get some condoms.”

\--

Walsh nervously watched his alpha as James darted around the room. The inside of Neverland was much the same as it was outside; crumbling, decrepit and uninviting. James had let the place go to ruin over the years, convinced that his time would come and he would rule Misthaven. There was no point, in his eyes, in _getting comfortable_.

But that meant Walsh had, in a weird sense, grown to love the rundown old manor house and the overgrown gardens as if they were his own. Neverland was home, whether he had another apartment in the city or not, and every wolf in the pack had their own room on the property. Most never used them, but they were always there in case they were needed. Like they had been recently.

James had insisted that every pack member stay at Neverland the last few weeks as they fabricated their plan of attack on Misthaven. Every wolf had a place in the attack, with every member a vital cog in the wheel, each needed to make sure it was executed to the absolute pinnacle of success. James did not tolerate failure, many had learned this the hard way, so as he buzzed around the room with a frustrated scowl on his face, Walsh was thankful for the increased canine presence around the halls of the old property.

“Stop sweating,” James grumbled into thin air, his words directed at his beta. Walsh stood silent, his clammy hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed in respect. James had not said a single word to him since his return and Walsh knew he was either stewing on his anger or plotting a way to dispose of his body.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Walsh offered feebly.

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize,” James spat, tutting at his subordinate.

Walsh was just about to apologise again when he bit his tongue, lest he anger James anymore. He had already failed in his task and had returned to Neverland without word of Emma’s assault, and James’ reaction was unnerving.

“I gave you one job, Walsh. And I thought I was clear.” James finally turned to face him now and Walsh averted his eyes, moving his chin even closer to his chest. “Was I not clear?”

“Yes, s-sir,” Walsh stuttered. “Crystal.”

“Then why is Emma still walking around without your seed inside of her?” James’ voice was eerily calm, and Walsh chanced a glance up at his alpha, immediately regretting the decision when James’ hand gripped his throat like a vice. Walsh was pinned against the wall before he had time to react, his hands flying up to stop James pushing even harder against his windpipe by grabbing his wrists.

“I tried!” Walsh strained, his voice squeaky and visibly changed by James’ grip.

“Not hard enough,” James growled, his face almost touching Walsh’s cheek as he spat the words like venom against his skin. Walsh flinched, James’ fingertips digging into the scar on his neck and causing him to cry out a little. “Do I not treat you well? Are you not happy being my beta?”

“Yes sir,” Walsh squeaked again, trying to nod against James’ hold.

“Then why do you fail me?” James boomed, his voice echoing off the walls as he released Walsh who slumped to the floor in a heap. He coughed, long, painful rasps as he fought for breath, his fingernails clawing at the collar of his shirt as he tried to suck in more oxygen. “Time and time again!” James exclaimed, waving an accusing hand at Walsh.

“I was blinded by my revenge,” Walsh admitted, his words broken by the rasp of a cough. “It won’t happen again.”

James regarded his beta, hunched over on the floor at his feet, panting hard. He hadn’t cared to hear Walsh’s story until now, his interest in the _why_ suddenly piqued. Normally he didn’t care what his wolves did in their own time, but disobeying orders instead of following them was something he never tolerated. If Walsh was any other lowly pack member he would have been dead already, his body burned and ashes raked into the ground of Neverland. But Walsh was loyal, and always had been, so there had to be a good reason for is disloyalty. And James wanted to hear it.

“Get up,” James demanded, poking him with the toe of his boot. “Face your alpha.”

Walsh scrambled to his feet, rearranging his shirt and jacket, pulling the sleeves the length of his arms to recover his wrists. There were very few things he feared in the world but James was one of them. He straightened his back until it was ramrod straight, his head held high so that he could look directly ahead but never into James’ eyes. The last thing he wanted was a misconstrued challenge for dominance.

James paced around in front of Walsh and leaned onto the desk behind him. He crossed his feet over at the ankles, his worn and battered boots creaking against each other as he did so, and he crossed his huge, muscular arms over his chest. He let out a breath, looking his beta up and down. “Tell me what happened,” he said in a calm tone, one that struck fear into Walsh’s blood immediately.

“I tracked her, almost as far as Misthaven, before I was drawn back to the city by her scent,” Walsh began, eyes fixed on the opposite wall, a huge bull moose head hanging from a dark wooden plaque. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the animal looked in pain, even in death, or that there was an empty plaque right next to it that looked suspiciously like it could accommodate a wolf head.

“I know this already,” James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get to the point.”

“She was with another wolf,” Walsh continued and James’ grunt of displeasure made him stop.

“Again, I know this. I am losing my patience here, Walsh.”

“It was the mongrel,” Walsh cast a quick glance at his alpha to gauge his reaction. “The one who gave me the scar. She was with him.”

“Really?” James sounded genuinely interested now, shifting his weight against the huge oak desk. “And you thought you could kill two birds with one stone,” James concluded for him. “You thought you could get the wolf and lure Emma to him.”

Walsh nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

“Maybe show him a little bit of Walsh hospitality we both know you love to indulge in,” James smirked and Walsh attempted a crooked smile.

“I did indeed,” Walsh declared proudly.

“So what went wrong?” James demanded darkly and Walsh felt the panic setting in under his skin again. “How did the mongrel get away _again_?” The accusation in his tone did not go unnoticed by Walsh, who swallowed a dry lump down his throat awkwardly.

“Emma came and she brought help,” Walsh said tentatively. “I was outnumbered.”

“She brought help,” James repeated with a sarcastic tone. He uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the desk in frustration.

“The Misthaven beta was with her,” Walsh added quickly, hoping to save his hide.

James narrowed his eyes. “Graham Humbert? Helping a mongrel?”

“And there was a human,” Walsh continued. “Pregnant by the looks of it.”

James’ eyes lit up in excitement. “Really?” He grinned. “It seems like Misthaven is falling apart without David even knowing it,” he laughed to himself, rubbing his hands together. “I doubt any of this is on his radar.”

“This could work to our advantage,” Walsh offered, having fabricated his new plan in the event of this very interrogation. James squinted at his beta, his trust waning.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“We attack Misthaven as planned, creating chaos. Emma is absent, so is the beta, and once defeated, David will have no choice but to hand over the estate to you.” Walsh relaxed his posture, gesturing with his hands.

“Hmm,” James hummed, showing his agreement and rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

“Then we exile David, force him to live as an outcast and I take Emma as my mate. Of course, we will have to promise the death of her father or mother, as I’m not sure she will be that willing of a wife,” Walsh told him matter of factly.

James’ lips twitched into a knowing smile at the tenacity of his niece. She most certainly would need some sort of incentive if she was to marry Walsh. “Of course,” he agreed again. “And what of the mongrel?”

Walsh’s jaw clenched at the mere mention of Killian. He had spent far too long plotting his revenge to let it slip from his fingers now. He knew that where Emma was the mongrel would follow, and even though his plan had not worked the first time, he was not about to waste another opportunity to make Killian pay for humiliating him. “He will pay.”

“Maybe make Emma watch?” James suggested. “Really break her, and then you can finally finish what I instructed you to do originally. She will fight, but breed her, give her no choice.”

“The aftermath will be glorious,” Walsh declared with a sadistic grin.

“David will lose his home, his power and for good measure, we will find and kill his mate too,” James said definitely. He pushed himself off the desk and began walking around to the balcony, peering out of the dirty rain stained windows to where wolves were busy sparring on the huge lawn below. Walsh grinned gleefully at the mere thought. “Emma will become your mate and I will finally be the alpha of Misthaven.”

“I like this plan,” Walsh grinned with glee.

“Just make sure you get the job done this time,” James glared at him. “I have no patience for failure.”

James grabbed each door handle to the balcony and pulled them hard, the windows rattling in the frames as the balcony doors opened. The sound of sparring disappeared and as James stepped out onto the crumbling platform, Walsh scrambled after him obediently, at his side when James reached the moss covered marble ledge.

“Brothers!” he called out, his voice echoing through the wind. Every wolf on the ground below him turned to look in his direction, eagerly awaiting their alpha’s instruction. “Our time has come!” James roared, scanning the crowd of expectant faces. “In less than two weeks, Misthaven will be ours!”

A huge cheer rang out through the wolves below, balled fists thrown into the air. Whistles accompanied the chanting, James’ name on their lips in quick succession that made him swell with pride and gave him a power hungry grin. He tapped his ankles together, the rubber soles of his boots not making a sound and when he spread his arms wide, the cries of submission washed over him like a divine calling.

_“James! James! James!”_

“You hear that?” James said to Walsh, head back, eyes closed and a serenely evil smile on his face. “That is the sound of glory, my friend.”

“For Neverland!” Walsh shouted out over the stone balcony, punching the air with his fist.

_“For Neverland!”_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for every single person who is reading this epic. I wish i had more time to answer each and every one of your wonderful comments. rest assured, I do read them and they inspire me to write more!

Killian was thankful for finally being able to stand upright. It had been two more days of strict bed rest but Emma had finally let him stand up long enough to shower on his own. Not that he minded her helping him bathe, but her heat was making it difficult to concentrate on anything other than wanting to bury himself inside of her. Especially since she had somehow managed to get Ruby to bring her condoms at some point in the last twenty four hours and they hadn’t left the bedroom since.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Killian chuckled to himself against the spray of the water, his voice drowned out by the drone of the droplets as they hit his chest and puddled at his feet. He was finally able to tend to his healed wounds now, lifting the shower head from its cradle and carefully running the soothing spray over the dirty areas. Emma had tried her best to keep the sites clean, but there was nothing like a steaming, hot shower to wash away the grime of his ordeal.

The water at his feet was a muddy brown, pieces of the forest that had previously been stuck to his skin making their way into the plug and clogging up the escape of water from the shower tray. Killian’s toes flexed in the murky bubbles, pools of soapy water at his feet draining slowly until the larger clumps of mud that had fallen from his body hair had dissolved in the circling water. 

His shoulders still hurt the most, his rearticulated joints stiff, reminding him of his first change. He never thought he would experience pain like that again, and he had never really wanted to, but since he had met Emma it had become apparent that he would never have another choice in his own fate again. They shared one destiny, bound together in everything, bonded by the moon, and Killian could sense her at every juncture of his life. Even now, as he swiped his shower gel laden hands over his wet torso, he couldn’t escape the thoughts of her.

The sounds of the shower droplets hitting his skin morphed into the sound of skin slapping skin, his groin twitching when he grazed it with another swipe of his hand. His arousal was imminent, he could feel it, and if it weren’t for his brother’s shower being the tiniest he had ever seen, Killian would surely have invited Emma to join him. He wouldn’t have been able to drown out the sounds she made as he pressed into her and he never wanted to, his nipples hardening under the spray as his finger lingered over the hard nub and gently gave it a pinch.

He ground out his own groan, his voice soft and disguised behind the pounding of the water. Maybe he could just touch himself here and now to relieve some of the tension? Maybe he could get away with a quick wank and Emma would be none the wiser? She knew her wolf heat did things to him, and she felt it too, but if they continued to fornicate at the rate they were going, neither of them would have the energy to meet his father later that day.

But then, would that be so bad?

Killian growled, annoyed, the hand that had managed to wrap itself around his member stilling. He gave himself a squeeze, the rock-hard flesh aching for something more than the gentle stroke of his own hand. Killian was tempted to call for Emma, to have her on her knees inside the cubicle with him, his length disappearing into her hot, wet maw over and over, but he refrained. It would only lead to more, and as much as he wanted - no, needed her - being distracted right now was no state of mind to be in.

Emma’s heat could not have come at a worse time. The Neverland pack were on the offensive, no doubt plotting something, and all they could think about was each other. The thought sobered Killian a little and he released his erection, the softening length bouncing off of his inner thigh as he faced the spray once more. He reached for the knob, turning the temperature to ice cold and gasping when the chilly spray pounded his face, taking his breath as well as his erection.

“Get it together, Jones,” Killian chided himself, flattened hands on either side of his head against the white tiles, the freezing water running through his hair, over the tip of his elven ears and running off his chiseled jaw line. “There will be plenty of time for fucking,” he grumbled, watching the water circling the drain between his feet.

When he was adequately clean, but wholly dissatisfied, Killian shut off the water and pushed open the thin glass door. It rattled a little, the shudder of glass filling the room and the snap of the magnetic door closing filling his ears. The room had been full of steam, but now it had escaped through a vent, the last remnants wafting through the ceiling in tiny wisps. Cold water dripped from his hair and made goosebumps appear along his neck as he stepped from the shower. Killian grabbed a small, dark blue bath towel that Liam had left warming on a wall mounted towel rack nearby.

He grabbed another smaller towel and began scrubbing at his hair, trying to focus on anything but the scent of the woman in the next room. Outside of the cubicle, Emma’s smell was overpowering, sending another twitch to his groin and making his toes curl into the soft, grey bath mat that covered most of the bathroom floor. He rubbed at his hair and beard a little more vigorously, tossing the hand towel aside into Liam’s hamper and running his hands through his still damp hair, trying to keep the stray strands of his black locks from falling over his face.

Killian searched Liam’s vanity cupboard for some sort of deodorant or aftershave, something he knew he would find and would help him mask the scent of the woman who was calling him to her. It wasn’t long before they were due to go and meet his father, and Liam would be home any time now, but there was something about the thrill of getting caught that made sure his erection stayed exactly where it was.

There was no stopping the feeling. Killian had to have Emma, and he had to have her now.

Exiting the bathroom quickly, he felt the coolness of the bedroom slam into his still damp chest, the wet hair acting like a cooling blanket. He scanned the room quickly and was unable to locate Emma, but her musk was everywhere, and when he reached the edge of the bed, a frown on his face, he spied a pile of clothes at the base of the bed that made him wonder what she was up to. His lips curved into a deliciously devilish smile and he traced his bottom one with his tongue.

“Emma?” he called darkly, the lust lacing her name as it left his mouth. He strained his ears to hear and picked up the faintest click of a door being locked, followed by the soft padding of bare feet on the wooden floor. The footsteps grew louder as he heard her near the bedroom and couldn’t stop his smile as she appeared in the doorway as naked as the day she was born.

“Hi,” she cooed, leaning against the doorframe. She rolled her body against the woodwork, stopping when her back was flat against the jamb and teasing a single finger over the curve of her breasts. Killian gulped. “I was just locking the door,” Emma told him with a smirk, flitting her eyes to his now tented towel with a gleeful grin.

“Whatever for?” Killian asked dumbly.

“Why do you think?” Emma purred, emphasising the ‘k’ with a click of her tongue.

“Hmm,” Killian hummed, half in a thought that was never really there and half in appreciation of the naked woman before him. Emma was sublime, the feel of her skin under his fingertips forever imprinted in his mind, the way her body moved against his, something he could get lost in forever. He smirked when she pushed herself from the doorframe with an exaggerated sigh, hands still caressing her own breasts and teasing her rosy nipples into rock hard peaks.

“You seem excited,” Emma teased salaciously, eyes flitting to his erection that was clearly visible beneath the towel around his waist.

“Maybe a little,” Killian smirked, watching the way she swayed her hips as she moved. He licked his lips and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, his length hardening even more as it twitched.

“Is it me?” Emma asked sweetly, her hands reaching out and flattening over his chest, fingers pushing through his coarse, damp chest hair. She didn’t stop until her body was flush with his, fingers dancing at the base of his skull and back arched into him, flattening her chest to his.

Killian sighed a groan, eyes rolling closed when her torso brushed his erection. “It’s definitely you,” he sighed contently, inhaling her scent when she rolled her body against his until her back was flush with chest. His hands found her shoulders, smoothing over the curve of the joint and trailing his fingertips down the length of her arms, fingers interlocking as their hands met. He thrust his hips gently into her behind, the friction making him tingle low in his belly. “You do this to me, Emma. You are a bad wolf.”

Emma giggled, the sound so innocent as it left her mouth. She rolled her body again and twisted from his grip, hands sliding down to tease the edge of the towel with her fingertip and before he knew it, the fabric was gone and he was naked too. Killian felt the coolness hit his throbbing erection like a blast of arctic air, but it was soon soothed by Emma’s hot palm as she began to softly rub him. “I can be a bad wolf if you’d like,” Emma purred, looking up at him through her lashes as she rubbed him harder, watching the agony of his face with a grin.

“I’d like,” Killian breathed, his muscles stiffening under her assault, his mind clearing of all coherent thoughts as the blood rushed to his member. Emma was a hellion and he was putty in her hands, the submissive in him clawing its way to the surface and willing to accept anything she would offer.

“But bad wolf Emma will use you and abuse you for her own pleasure,” she warned him with a pout. She let her hands slide back up his abdomen, fingers dancing over his abs and tickling the ridges of his muscles as she went. Killian sucked in a breath, eyes flying open and catching her predatory gaze as she slammed her hands into his chest, and he stumbled backward onto the edge of the bed.

Killian stopped his fall quickly, lest he lose sight of her as he bounced on the edge of the mattress. His erection bobbed proudly against his stomach, jutting up as solid as it ever had been and he watched with an excited fascination when Emma dropped to her knees and began crawling to him on all fours. “I don’t give a fuck,” Killian growled with a grin. “I want the bad wolf, Emma. Let me have her.”

She advanced slowly, hands and knees silently moving across the floor until she reached him and gave him a sultry grin. She licked her lips and Killian parted his legs, reading her mind, the pair of them so synchronised he knew exactly her intention just by her stare. It was hunger, pure and simple, and he had what the bad wolf needed to sate her famine. Emma moved between his legs, straight towards her goal and never breaking eye contact, she licked his solid length from root to tip.

“Woof,” she purred with a raised eyebrow, licking her lips again before teasing her bottom lip with her teeth once more.

“Gods, woman,” Killian ground out through a clenched jaw, his climax ebbing at the tip of his overly sensitive erection and making him ooze pre-cum. He was throbbing, his blood screaming within him, and all he could do was bunch the sheet up in his fists in frustration of her teasing.

“I’m sorry,” Emma sang sweetly, raising to her knees between his, pushing his legs apart even more to accommodate her frame. She tickled his inner thigh with her fingernails, dragging them over his coarse hair there and watching him shudder with pleasure. “Am I too much?” She bit her tongue, rolling it over the ridges of her teeth and tracing the outline of the vein in his length with a single finger, her touch skimming over the soft, raised skin.

“I can handle it,” Killian smirked, unsure of his words when she suddenly swiped her fingertip over his velvety tip and lifted it to her mouth, her lips wrapping around the digit and sucking on it hungrily. His smirk faded away, a hot blush creeping up the back of his neck and over his shoulders as he imagined her lips around a different appendage.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed contently, pulling her finger from her mouth with a pop. “I think I want more of that,” she said darkly, her voice changing with a sudden increase in lust Killian could smell in her arousal. She was done with teasing, her own need taking over, and she leaned her elbows on his thighs as she wrapped her fingers around him, finally giving him a stroke. “Think you can handle that?”

“Fuck, yes, Emma. Please,” he whined like a puppy. “Please take what you need.”

Her lips were on his hot length quicker than he had time to fill his lungs with the much-needed oxygen she had stolen with her ministrations. Killian’s balls ached, the edge of his orgasm fluttering inside them, his toes curling against the hardwood floor of Liam’s bedroom and his head falling back like a ragdoll. Emma lavished his length like it was a precious talisman, her tongue running under the tip and her hands giving his base a squeeze as she gave out another contented hum.

Killian felt like he was floating. They had fooled around like this before, and he knew what the inside of Emma’s mouth felt like, but somehow this was different. Her heat made it different. He could feel every tiny nodule on her tongue, every ridge of her fingerprints against his length and the heat of her mouth was like liquid fire against his skin, the vibrations from her own pleasurable moans shaking every nerve ending in his erection and bringing him closer to euphoria.

Emma rearranged herself, his length slipping out of her mouth with a pop and Killian reached forward and pulled her hair from her face, bunching it into a sideways ponytail so he could see himself disappearing back into her mouth again. Her tongue flattened over his length as she bobbed her head up and down, curling it around his girth at the very top and slowing her pace to an agonizingly slow sucking of his head that he thought might end him. His grip on her hair tightened and he growled, catching her eye when she looked up at him innocently.

“You are bad,” Killian purred, loosening his hold on her hair when she released him, replacing her mouth with her hand whilst she caught her breath and smiled up at him sweetly.

“I’m just getting started,” Emma grinned. She planted her hands on his thighs, pushing herself to her feet and leaning forward to plant a kiss to his tip. Killian shuddered, feet bouncing against the floor and his gasp audible. It made Emma chuckle and she made her way around the edge of the bed, a finger tracing the outline of his jaw as she passed him, eager to keep his eye contact whilst she retrieved a condom from the nightstand.

Killian reached out for her as she passed him and let his fingers drag over the curve of her behind. Emma’s scent was intoxicating and he felt himself dizzy for a second, his hair itching all over his body and the wolf inside crying out to have her. “Where do you want me?” Killian asked her softly, shimming himself back on the bed but he only made it halfway to the headboard before she stopped him.

“Not there,” she cooed with an innocent smirk. “On your feet,” she instructed, pointing to an area near the bottom corner of the bed. Killian gave her a sideways grin and tilted his head.

“What are you up to?” He narrowed his eyes and complied with her demand, sliding from the bed and standing at the bottom corner, his knees bumping the edge of the mattress because of how close he was.

“Perfect,” Emma whispered to herself, ignoring his question and climbing onto the bed. She crawled over to him and sat on the corner of the bed, her legs dangling on either side of his and his erection standing to attention right in front of her face. She bit her lip again, looking up his torso to give him a hungry stare. “Right where I want you.”

“For?” Killian smiled excitedly, his length responding to her touch instantly when she began stroking him once more.

Emma ripped the edge of the foil square and tossed it aside, ignoring where it landed and slipping the lubricated condom out of its packet. She looked up at him with a wink and a sideways smirk, shrugging her shoulders innocently. “For fucking,” she beamed. She pinched the tip of the condom between her lips, leaning forward and lining it up with his tip before using her mouth to unroll it onto his length.

“Oh, fuck,” Killian hissed, the slight pressure of her lips around his erection making his legs wobble a little. 

When she was content it was fitted properly, she gave him one last suck, the rubber taste in her mouth fading away with a few licks of her lips. She leaned back until she was prone on the bed, wrapping her legs around his and digging her heels into his back. “Well, don't just stand there,” Emma purred sweetly. “Make me come.”

Killian was at his tipping point, the new sensation of the tightness of latex sheathing his hard length making him throb even more. The condom was tighter than he’d like but not uncomfortable, the grip around the base of his erection like that of Emma’s hand. He leaned forward, grabbing her roughly and pulling her towards the edge of the bed with a grunt, the smell of Emma’s arousal almost overpowering him when her legs parted a little more. She was soaking wet, her nectar glistening between her folds, her muscles already throbbing in her core and making her clit pulse.

Killian wasted no time, taking himself in hand and rubbing himself over her sex, watching her writhe against the comforter and claw at her own skin. She was as desperate as he was, their lust uncontainable now they were both naked, their skin buzzing from each others touch and sending them both impossibly closer to orgasm. Killian slapped his length against her nub and she almost jumped off the bed, screaming out in shock as her pleasure threshold was almost reached.

“Oh, you like that?” Killian teased, thrusting himself over her clit again to soothe the sting, quickly giving the hard bundle of nerve another slap of his member.

“Yes!” Emma whimpered, balling her hand in her hair in frustration. She was so close to the edge and his teasing was driving her insane.

“Am I going to make you come?” Killian grinned devilishly.

“You'd better,” Emma warned with a giggle, heels digging harder into his back to urge him closer to her. Killian almost lost his balance, pushing into her with a shudder and a sigh as the intrusion took them both by surprise. Emma was almost molten around his length, her muscles drawing him deeper as he inched inside of her and they both adjusted to the sensation. 

“Christ, Emma,” Killian breathed out through a clenched jaw, his hand gripping her upper thigh tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin and leaving half-moon shaped welts. Emma throbbed around him and he had to stop himself from coming, pausing and holding his breath as a bead of sweat rolled down the column of his neck.

“Don't hold back,” Emma smirked salaciously, catching his gaze when his eyes finally fluttered open at her words and he caught sight of her kneading her breasts. She pinched her nipples, one then the other, groaning at the sensation that sent sparks through her chest and straight to her core.

Killian began to move, slowly at first to really tickle her, barely dragging his length over the ridges of her g-spot, loving the profanities that spewed from her gorgeous mouth as he did so. He watched her excite herself, one hand thrust into her hair again where it clutched a clump between her fingers and the other pulling harder against a nipple, the bud rock hard between her fingers as she tugged on it and it began to bruise.

Then he increased his pace, finding the sight of Emma playing with her own body too much to handle, the inner tip of the condom already wet around him as the sound of skin slapping skin and the soft lapping water sound of her arousal made him even harder inside of her. She let out a cry, hands flying out beside her body and grabbing the duvet as she began a rhythmic pant, her cries of encouragement gradually getting loud as he thrust harder.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Just like that. I’m so close.”

Killian felt her legs go limp, her grip on his waist loosening and so he quickly rearranged her. He pulled one leg to his chest, the back of her calf tickled by his chest hair as the other went limp beside his thigh and his angle changed, making Emma cry out again. He was touching her in new places now, her thigh shaking on each thrust that seemed to draw every ounce of pleasure from her as well as steal all the breath from her lungs.

“There!” Emma yelled suddenly. “Oh my god, right fucking there!”

Killian let out his own cry and eager to obey her, he licked his thumb and began rubbing it over her clitoris, watching her face change into the expression of euphoria he had come to love. Emma was beautiful when she came, her features becoming serene, her entire body going limp in his hold as she beaome paralyzed with pleasure. Killian cried out with her, her release triggering his as he emptied himself into the condom and his hips stuttered to a slower pace, the contractions of her muscles making him hiss as they pulled at his sensitive tip. 

He was out of breath, chest hair damp from the sweat of his exertions but the glorious smile on Emma’s face was worth every effort. His body ached in so many places, still healing on the inside, but there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see Emma happy and sated. His thumb brushed over her clit again and he pressed a little harder, teasing her with a smirk when her hand flew down to grab his wrist and stop his ministrations.

“Stop!” She giggled coyly, almost as if she didn’t want him to. 

“Sensitive?” He grinned, an eyebrow jumping up on his sweaty brow as he brushed the overhanging hair from his face. Emma nodded at him as she bit her lower lip, pulling his wrist until he fell on top of her and his lips met hers, their bodies still joined in the most intimate way. Killian held his weight up with a strong arm on either side of her head and Emma clutched his face, her fingers weaving into the length of his beard as her tongue teased his through her smile and she hummed a gratified noise in the back of her throat.

“Better, my sweet?” Killian asked her lovingly, watching his hand swipe over her brow and his fingers combing through her blonde locks that were spread out over the bed like the rays of the sunshine. He kissed the tip of her nose, nuzzling his own against it immediately afterward.

“Better,” Emma smiled contently. She lifted her legs until they were bent and her knees pressing into the side of his hips, one hand trailing down the side of his torso whilst the other was threading into the hair at the back of his neck. She felt him slip from her folds but neither moved, absolutely exhausted from their activities and even more by the constant pull of their lust they were both experiencing. “I’m sorry I’m so insatiable,” Emma admitted shyly, pulling his head to hers until their foreheads touched. “It will be over soon.”

Killian gave her a wry smirk, his eyes dancing over hers so closely their eyelids batted each other. “Gods, I hope not,” he teased with a wrinkle of his nose, eyes alight with joy. Emma laughed, her reticence disappearing instantly as he tilted his face back to hers and gobbled up her post-coitus hysterics with another delicious kiss.

\--

“Are you sure Ruby will be safe?” Graham asked the Jones brothers as they both paced lines into the woodwork of the old farmhouse kitchen. Liam had arranged a meeting with their father and Brennan was on his way to Ruby’s farm as they spoke. It was neutral ground, not occupied by any werewolves, and Liam felt confident that given the nature of his parent's love, Ruby would be, as a human, safe in Brennan’s presence.

Graham was not entirely convinced.

“I give you my word,” Liam told him firmly, shooting him a sideways glance. Ruby was sitting at the end of the large wooden farmhouse dining table in an equally large chair, her fingers interlocked and her hands resting on the surface in front of her. Graham had his hands protectively resting on her shoulders and Emma gave him a small, reassuring nod.

“My father is not like them,” Liam defended, suddenly feeling like the whole room was watching him intently. He stopped, leaning forward on the table, unsure of his own words.

“He does run with the Neverland pack, though, right?” Emma added, not meaning to throw fuel onto the fire. Killian, whose lap she was sitting on, gave her thigh a little protective squeeze and it made her look at him. He knew Liam was only defending their father but he also recognised a wolf when he felt attacked, so he disguised his silent warning by pressing his lips to the fabric covering her shoulder and shaking his head.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Ruby offered nervously. She was trapped in a room with four werewolves, one in heat and another on the way. She was over seven months pregnant. She didn’t need this.

“What do you hope to accomplish here, Killian?” Liam pressed his brother, lifting his bowed head and staring across the table.

Killian lifted his face from Emma’s shirt, immediately missing the intensity of her scent and wrapped his arms around her waist to compensate with the warmth of her body against his. He looked up at his brother worried. Liam was never this riled. “You’re nerves are showing, brother,” Killian told him in a calm tone and Liam responded with a snort.

“Really?” He squeaked, disbelief on his face. “I’m standing in a human’s kitchen, no offense Red…”

“None taken,” Ruby told him quietly, reaching her hand to her shoulder and placing her hand onto Graham’s.

“With the Heir and the beta of Misthaven,” Liam continued, his words leaving his mouth and gradually increasing in volume as he motioned to Emma and then to Graham. “Waiting for our father, who happens to run with Misthaven’s biggest rival pack, for reasons still unknown to me, because my little brother has an idea…”

“Younger,” Killian interrupted in a low, gruff voice.

“That he has yet to share with any of us! So yes, Killian, forgive me, but my nerves are most definitely on full display right now.” Liam finished his rant, his face red and moisture forming along his hairline. He bowed his head again, almost slamming it into the table.

“Trust me, brother,” Killian implored. “That is all I ask of you.”

Liam sighed a long, hefty breath and excused himself, storming out of the kitchen and heading towards the back door. They were all silent for a moment, the only noise the creak of the screen door as he stepped out onto the porch to clear his thoughts and the jingle of dog tags as Hunter, Ruby and Graham’s wolfhound, lifted his sleepy head to watch the man who whisked past him.

“Should I be worried?” Ruby asked, looking to Killian. “I’ve never seen Liam this scared of anything.” She placed her hands on her stomach and it didn’t escape Emma’s notice. She had been more receptive to smells lately, sensing things because of her wolf heat and whether she knew it or not, Ruby was about to deliver. Maybe this wasn’t the best place for her.

“Why don’t we go upstairs?” Emma suggested with a tight-lipped smile, her gaze catching Ruby’s and her head tilting sideways, motioning towards the quirky doorway nearby. The frame was old and warped, the natural wood obviously left for character when the farmhouse was built, and it was pitted with woodworm holes from an old infestation. “I’m sure I’ll just be a distraction anyway,” Emma shrugged.

She was right. The only person who couldn’t smell she was in her heat was Ruby and whilst Graham and Liam had so far managed to contain themselves around her, there was nothing saying Brennan Jones would be as reserved. Killian knew what she meant, releasing her reluctantly so she could stand but hanging onto her fingertips for as long as he could. 

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Emma smiled weakly, her voice quiet and aimed directly at the man in front of her. He returned her smile, tugging her towards him and tilting his head back. Emma’s hand slipped from his and she kissed him chastely, palms flat to the side of his scruffy cheeks.

“Thank you,” Killian whispered when their lips parted. Emma knew he was apprehensive about meeting his father, Killian hadn’t seen the man since he was a boy, but she would be close by and even knowing that she could offer him a little comfort was enough. “I’ll be okay.”

Ruby was barely out of her seat, Graham helping her wide frame off of the chair, when the jingle of Hunter’s tags alerted them all again. The hound had jumped to his feet, claws scraping the wooden floor in his hurry, and he was staring at the back door where Liam had recently exited. His ears pricked forward, their sideways flop more alert on the top of his head and his brown eyes were wide behind the scruffy fur of his face.

“What is it, boy?” Graham frowned, petting the almost waist high dog on the flanks. Hunter jumped skittishly, turning to look at his master before returning his gaze to the door once more. He growled a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and echoed into the room, the deep boom of the bark that followed making them all look towards the off-white panel door.

There was a click, the squeak of the screen door faint on the other side, and then it was pushed open into the room and Liam stepped over the threshold with another man. He was tall and thin, much like Killian, but had clearly seen many more years. He had shoulder-length hair, almost black, but it was peppered with lengths of grey that had obviously increased in volume over time. He was wearing dark jeans and an olive green jacket, the cuffs on the sleeves dirty and littered with dark brown patches that Graham recognised as blood splatter.

“Emma, why don’t you take Ruby upstairs now,” Graham said darkly, his hackles raised at the new wolf before him, his protectiveness of his fiancée evident in his tone. It wasn’t a question and Emma reached for Ruby’s arm as she moved out of Killian’s embrace, her eyes catching the dark brown of the newest wolf in the room as they disappeared through the doorway.

Killian stood up from his seat, the skin over his body itching. He recognised the man before him, but only vaguely, the hue of his eyes long forgotten in place of remembering the blue of his mother’s. His hair was different, much longer now, and he had a medium length scruff covering his jaw much like his own. He stepped forward, Liam closing the door behind them both and he looked over Killian with a grin of pride.

“Killian, my boy,” he almost whimpered, his voice breaking a little. “Look how you’ve grown.”


	18. Chapter 18

Emma had heeded her beta, for once, the tone of Graham’s voice when he had asked her to take his mate upstairs was one she recognised instantly. It was business, stern and calm, but with a dark undertone that she realised Graham had learned from her father. Nobody knew how to command a room like her father, or so she had thought until Graham’s words had left his mouth and left her chilled to the bone.

Ruby’s farmhouse was big and old, the decoration from years gone past but still fitting with the character of the house. Emma didn’t know if she had inherited it or bought it, and just liked it this way, but the decor was certainly quirky. None of the furniture matched, but somehow she still did, each piece clearly hand picked to go exactly where it stood, like a statement in each room. There was a phone table in the hallway landing that held no phone, but a framed photo of Ruby and Graham. As they walked past it, Ruby waddling up ahead of her, Ruby smiled through a contented sigh, making a point to step over floorboards that creaked under Emma’s boots.

“So how long have you lived here?” Emma asked casually, crossing the threshold of the off-kilter doorway. There was a step down into the room and Emma almost tripped, righting herself just enough to be bathed in the warm sunshine glow of the afternoon that was bursting through the perfectly placed window. It was huge, taking up almost the entire wall, and off to one side was a small glazed doorway that led out onto a terrace.

“Forever,” Ruby told her with a reminiscent smile. She motioned for Emma to sit on the bed and perched on the other side, which was likely Graham’s by the scent Emma was picking up from the unwashed sheets. “My parents bought this farm when I was a kid.”

“So, when did you meet Killian and Liam?” Emma asked quickly, sinking down onto the bed with a bounce, unable to hide the jealousy in her voice. She watched her hands rub over her knees, instantly regretting her words. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “I don’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” Ruby assured her, scooting back and sinking into the pillows. She tugged at one of them, rearranging it behind her as she attempted to get comfortable, but failed miserably due to her oversized stomach.

“Here, let me,” Emma offered with a smile, jumping to her feet and offering Ruby a hand. 

Ruby took it with a sympathetic “thanks,” pulling herself into a sit, letting Emma fluff her cushions and easing herself back down. “You’re too kind,” Ruby smiled genuinely. “I can’t do anything like this.” Ruby motioned to her belly, the wobbling mass vibrating as she spoke, her fingertips poking against the sides playfully.

“It won’t be long,” Emma assured her with a twitch of a smile, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she settled back down on the edge of the bed. Ruby winced a little, twisting her torso sideways and clutching her side, holding her breath as if she were riding out a contraction. Emma’s heart stopped in her chest but began again as soon as Ruby exhaled and smoothed a hand over her bump.

“Twisted my back at work,” she huffed, recognising the concern on Emma’s face. “I keep forgetting I’m pregnant.” Emma laughed, coughing the noise from her mouth in disbelief.

“How?” She frowned, pointing to Ruby’s belly. She was only seven months pregnant, but she looked like she was carrying triplets, the huge, round protrusion hindering nearly everything the poor woman did. Emma was surprised she was still working at all, knowing what she did, but then, she was the only person who did. “Ruby, I have something to tell you.”

Ruby gave her a quick, quizzical look and pursed her bottom lip out, idly watching her swollen feet as she wiggled her toes. “Sure,” she said quickly, tearing her attention from her feet when her toes felt adequately stretched. “Go ahead.” Ruby smiled a big, wide, genuine grin that made Emma realise how Graham had fallen in love with her so easily. She was pretty, and not just physically. Ruby had a warmth and love she exuded to all creatures and even Emma found it endearing.

“Now,” Emma began, shuffling along the edge of the bed so she was sitting closer to Ruby. “Don’t freak out when I tell you this, but...” Emma trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

Ruby looked at her again, her smile slipping from her face. Her hands clutched the side of her belly, protecting the child inside with sheer will alone. The look on Emma’s face wasn’t exactly grave, but it wasn’t filling her with much comfort. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

Emma looked down and nervously began wringing her hands together. She wasn’t good at this. If Ruby had been Were, this would have been easier, but she wasn’t. Emma moistened her lips and took a breath, holding it when she felt Ruby’s fingers grip her forearm through the fabric of her shirt.

“Emma, tell me,” Ruby implored, her face paling. “Is it Graham? Is he safe with that wolf?” She tried to heave herself into an upright position again, but Emma’s bulk on the side of the mattress stopped her from swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

“He’s fine,” Emma assured her, halting her movements with a comforting touch to her thigh. If she were being truthful though, she had no idea. She had never met Brennan Jones before, and she hoped his sons were a good indication of character. “Just lay back and relax. Please.”

“I’m finding it really hard right now, because you won’t tell me why I shouldn’t freak out,” Ruby sassed. Flustered she sank back down to the awaiting pillows and huffed, running her shaking hand over her forehead. Emma could tell she was thinking, trying to process all of the thoughts that were running through her mind, and she knew that early labour would be the last thing on her list.

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologised, twisting her body so that she was facing Ruby. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t know how to say this.”

“You open your mouth and the words come out,” Ruby snapped, cheeks flushing red with a hint of anger. She flashed Emma a look, quickly looking away as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. Today is…”

“Something else,” Emma finished for her, casting a worried glance to the doorway. She could only hear muffled voices from the kitchen below, and none were raised, but it didn’t stop her fearing for Killian’s life. “Today is a lot to take in.”

“You bet your ass,” Ruby agreed sassily. She half snorted a laugh through her nose that was cut off by the sound of her wincing as she clutched her abdomen again, another little twinge of muscle pain rippling through her stomach. She rubbed at the side of her bump, feeling the press of a foot against her palm. “Little guy has been restless lately,” she told Emma with a nod. “So eager to meet his father, I’ll bet.” Ruby smiled, the thought of Graham with a newborn in his arms making her gush hormonally.

“Maybe the little guy is not so much restless as...” Emma shrugged shyly. Ruby looked at her, frowning in confusion. “Listen, I’m in heat.” Emma coughed the words out, the prick of heat invading her own cheeks. “And it comes with some enhanced…” It wasn’t something a Werewolf normally talked about, let alone with a human, and Emma was finding it difficult to express herself properly.

“That would explain the grabby hands, overprotective girlfriend routine with Killian,” Ruby teased her with a sideways smirk. Emma gave her a sheepish look. “I might be human, Emma, but I know animal mating behaviour when I see it.” Emma laughed softly, refocusing her attention to the hands in her lap. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? Do you need some medication or something?”

“Oh no,” Emma assured Ruby, shaking her head vehemently. “I’m fine, but thank you for the offer.” She smiled to reassure her further, and when Ruby returned her gesture she continued. “All of my senses during a heat cycle are amplified. Everything.”

“Oh,” Ruby gave her a salacious grin, eyes widening with excitement. “Been making good use of the condoms, have we?” She winked and Emma blushed even harder, trying to not think about the exquisite effect Killian had on her senses right now.

“It’s you,” Emma blurted in an attempt to not have to discuss her sex life with a pregnant woman. 

“I’m sorry?” Ruby frowned.

“I can smell you,” Emma clarified, but winced as her words came out all wrong again. “I mean, I can smell the things happening in your body.”

“I don’t think you are saying what you mean,” Ruby laughed, and Emma was glad she hadn’t completely offended the fiancée of her beta with some weird, sexual ramble about the way she smelled. Emma sighed, angry at herself, and willed herself to find the right words.

“Ruby, the baby is coming,” Emma told her softly. “Soon. Very soon.”

“What?” Ruby laughed nervously, narrowing her eyes. “It’s too…”

“Too soon, I know,” Emma agreed, a little confused, “for a human baby, but he isn’t a human baby, Ruby, he is a…” Emma stopped suddenly, looking up at Ruby and swallowing hard. The term for her baby was derogatory in the Werewolf community, a slur against its lineage that Emma was reluctant to point out to his mother.

“It’s okay,” Ruby said with a weak smile. “You can say it. He’s a mongrel. Graham and I have talked about this. We know what he is and we know what it means for him. For all of us.” There was no sadness behind Ruby’s words and Emma felt a pang of guilt inside her chest for having to tell Ruby her life was about to get complicated two months earlier than they had planned.

“I don’t think your back ache and these muscles spasms you keep having are coincidence,” Emma told her gently. “Do you guys have a plan for when he arrives?” Emma’s words were hopeful because she really did hope they had one.

“We do,” Ruby told her and she breathed a relieved sigh. “Graham has a secret cabin that no one knows about. Davin and I are going to hide out there until Graham can come for us.” Ruby smiled at her belly again, fingertips dancing over the bulging tummy as she gazed upon it lovingly.

“Davin?” Emma grinned. “You’ve got a name,” she said, smiling warmly.

Ruby nodded. “It’s Irish,” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Of course it is.” Emma laughed with her, nodding knowingly. She wouldn’t expect anything less from Graham.

“And kind of like David too,” Ruby exclaimed, radiant, and Emma’s head shot up to meet her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together a little. “After your father,” Ruby explained, reaching out to grab Emma’s hand. “I know things are not great between you two right now.”

“Understatement,” Emma said sadly. “He ordered the execution of the wolf I love, so I have no idea what’s going to happen when he finds out Killian is a half breed.” The sorrow in Emma’s words was not lost on Ruby who gave her hand an even harder squeeze, her thumb brushing over the ridges of Emma’s knuckles soothingly.

“I’m not going to pretend like everything will be okay, because I know life isn't a fairytale and sometimes people don’t live happily ever after,” Ruby said firmly, pulling her hand back to her stomach with another wince. The pain made her muscles tense a little more than last time and Emma watched her, concerned. “But…” Ruby began again but her words were silenced by another, much sharper pain stabbing through her womb. 

“Ruby, I think…” Emma tried.

“I’m fine,” Ruby hissed through the pain, sucking a breath through her teeth and sitting forward on the bed, doubling over. “It’s just Braxton Hicks,” Ruby assured Emma quickly, furiously rubbing the underside of her bump.

“Okay, but, does _that_ normally happen with, whatever you called them?” Emma asked dumbly, pointing to the large wet patch appearing under the human before her. Ruby sucked in a few short breaths, following Emma’s finger to the comforter that had become a much darker shade.

“Oh shit,” Ruby gasped, her hands beginning to shake. 

“Is this it?” Emma asked, springing to her feet and paralyzed to the spot beside the bed. Ruby ground her teeth through another contraction and nodded quickly, growling out loud as the pain washed through her. When it seemed to ebb away, she sank back onto the pillows once more, her brow beaded with sweat and her pupils dilated. “What do I do? What can I get you? Graham!” Emma’s words were a shout, but before she had time to call out again for her beta, Ruby was assuming a delivery position and it made her panic.

“Whilst I commend your faith in my abilities, I am a vet, Emma, and can’t deliver this baby alone.” Ruby pulled her knees up until her feet were flat on the bed and she pulled her top up to reveal the stretched skin of her stomach. Emma watched as she felt around, trying to find the right spot before beckoning her over with a wave of her hand. “I need your hearing.”

“What?” Emma asked, panicked, but moving onto the bed as asked.

“I need you to count his heartbeats and tell me how many there are in thirty seconds.” The words croaked out when she exhaled hard through another stab of pain. “Quickly, before my next contraction,” she urged, pointing to the spot on her belly where she could feel the baby’s back pressed against the uterine wall.

Emma scrambled to the other side of the bed so she had more room, and waited for Ruby to lay as still as she could, awkwardly resting the side of her head to Ruby’s hot skin and tried to pinpoint the thumping. It was a little difficult to distinguish between Ruby’s and Davin’s at first but Emma did it, counting the echoing beats as they rapidly filled her ears like the beat of a tiny drum.

“Sixty-five,” Emma exclaimed, pushing her hair from her face as she sat back on her heels. 

“Great,” Ruby forced through a clenched jaw.

“Is that good?” Emma asked quickly, searching Ruby’s face for any hint of concern.

“It’s perfect,” she ground out, her back arching off the bed a little. “Doubled for a whole minute, his heart rate is within the perfect range.”

“For what?” Emma asked quickly, her own heartbeat hammering in her chest. She hadn’t felt this exhilarated since she had met Killian, the adrenaline coursing through her body.

“For...for labour,” Ruby growled, eyes pinched closed. 

“Now?” Emma gasped, surprised. Maybe it wasn’t just the gestation of hybrids that was shortened. Ruby’s labour seemed to be progressing rapidly, much faster than any human birthing Emma had heard of. “What can I do?” she panicked, turning white.

“Graham,” Ruby whimpered, her hand flying out to clutch Emma by the arm. She peeled her eyes open, and for the first time, Emma saw fear in Ruby’s eyes. “Get Graham.”

\--

Killian wasn’t sure how he would feel if he ever actually found his father, the years since his mother’s passing becoming more frustrating with each he had searched and come up empty. But now he knew why he had never been successful and as they all stood, frozen to their spots, each in a corner of the farmhouse kitchen, Killian cast an unforgiving glance towards his brother. Lily’s death had been years ago, and if the Neverland pack were forcing Brennan to toe the line with the warning, they had to have been in contact long enough for one or the other to have gotten sloppy.

Liam had clearly found his father long ago, the two of them more familiar than would suggest a first meeting after so many years apart. Somewhere, in the depths of his heart, Killian knew that Liam was protecting him from knowing too much, and he knew Brennan was protecting them both from the wolves of Neverland. One of their family had already paid the price for their association and Killian knew that Liam would never want to put him in harm's way.

“Killian,” his father said softly, shaking him from his daze. Killian remembered his voice, the soft timbre of his words so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. He was young when his father had left, barely a baby, but his name from his father’s mouth had been imprinted on him forever.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Graham offered, placing a compassionate hand on Killian’s shoulder. That shook him, making him jump a little on the spot and he looked over to his new friend with a sigh. 

“I’m alright,” Killian assured him with a steady nod. He reached up and patted Graham’s hand, letting it slip from his shoulder when Graham offered him a tight-lipped smile.

“Killian, you know I would never have left you boys if I thought there was a way of keeping us together.” Brennan’s voice was soft, uncharacteristic for a wolf, and filled with remorse. He took a step towards Killian who held up a hand, halting his father’s advance and giving him a quick, warning glance. Brennan nodded, understanding his son’s reluctance and stepped back, looking to his other son for aid.

“Father just did what he thought would keep us safe,” Liam told Killian, his tone a little more dominant than his father’s. Liam had always held position over Killian, his werewolf nature unable to hide his dominance no matter how hard he had tried to blend into human society.

The room was tense, harsh, palpable silence deafening all four of the wolves. Graham was in charge, they all sensed that without anyone saying a word. It was his mate’s kitchen, for all intents and purposes his home, and no one was about to challenge his word. Liam was next in line, holding rank over Killian, and the new wolf, Brennan Jones, their father, was at the bottom of the hierarchical ladder. Killian had never experienced the raw, invisible power of dominance before, but their places, even in this room, were clear from body language alone.

“I didn’t invite you here to hear apologies,” Killian said calmly, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the floor in front of his feet. He had longed to embrace his father, the man he had never known, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t will his feet to move any closer.

“I understand,” Brennan said softly, relaxing a little. He took in his son’s rigid stance, tense shoulders and downturned lips, the anguish he was feeling evident all over Killian’s face. “This is new for me too, Killian.”

At his words, Killian looked up and met the dark brown hues of his father, the action making Brennan smile. The way his father said his name was so comforting and yet so distracting at the same time. Killian couldn’t focus, turning away from his father’s gently smiling face and nervously pulling at the patch of stubble under his bottom lip. Graham stepped beside him, eyeing the newcomer over Killian’s shoulder.

“Are you good?” he whispered so only Killian could hear. 

Killian nodded slowly, ears straining to hear every move the strange wolf was making behind him. Turning your back on an unfamiliar wolf would normally be inadvisable, but Kilian had an unrequited trust in both Liam and Brennan, the latter he couldn’t fully explain. After a beat, he took a breath, catching Graham’s eye to assure him once more he was fine, and turned to face his father and brother once more.

“You said you had questions for our father,” Liam pointed out, motioning between them with a loose wave of his hand.

“By all means, my boy, ask them,” Brennan encouraged and Killian stiffened at his name once again.

“Could you, just…” Killian began, clenching his fist and sighing. “I don’t know you like you know me, so please could you stop with the ‘my boy’ nonsense.”

“Killian,” Brennan implored gently.

“I think we all need to take a breather,” Graham tried, stepping between Killian and his father, flattening his palm in the space between them and glancing from one to the other.

“Why are you even here?” Liam growled at his friend, moving forward to the group, puffing out his chest and glaring at Graham in defense of his father.

“Watch your tone,” Graham warned, straightening his back to appear larger than Liam, the wolfhound at his side stiffening and pricking his ears, ready to attack on his command. Graham didn’t have to say it, but they were all in his territory and for the sake of his new found friend, he let Liam’s overly human misdeed slide.

“Call off your dog,” Liam bit, casting a disgusted glance towards Hunter who sat back on his haunches when he felt there was no immediate danger against his master.

“Graham stays,” Killian snarled, giving his brother a darkened stare. Liam looked into his brother’s eyes and saw something he had never seen before - the wolf inside of Killian, full of fire and conflict. It was clear the whole situation was getting to Killian, so Liam softened his approach.

“Listen, Killian…” Brennan began when Liam stepped behind him to cool off.

“No, listen to me,” Killian barked, advancing on his father with a menacing point of his finger. Graham stepped with him, ready to hold him back if need be. “I have spent my entire life wishing, no, _hoping_ that I would find you, and not just for my mother.” Brennan bowed his head at Killian’s rant, listening but letting him release years worth of mixed emotions he probably had no idea he was even suppressing. “Liam told me stories when we were lads, and now here you are acting as if you’ve actually been a part of my life this whole time.”

“I have,” Brennan frowned, looking at Liam. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“Tell me what, brother?” Killian prompted Liam with a scowl. “What else have you hid from me?”

“Killian,” Liam said firmly, grounding his brother with his voice. “Calm down and just listen, will you? I understand you are angry, but this is not the time nor the place.” Liam cast a quick glance over Killian’s shoulder toward Graham, reassuring him that he was in control of his brother. “You wanted this meeting. You have a plan, remember?”

Killian looked up at his brother, the warmth of Liam’s hand on his shoulder easing his discomfort. “You’re right, brother,” he nodded, tightening his jaw and looking at his father again. “We can talk this over another time.”

“I would like that,” Brennan smiled weakly, scratching his fingers through his pitch black chin hair.

Graham’s ears perked up suddenly, the sound of his name bouncing off the walls through the old house making them all turn and face the big wooden door to the hall. The ladies had exited through it less than forty minutes ago, but after a pause, they did not hear his name repeated.

“Maybe you should go see why they called?” Killian suggested, nudging his head towards the door.

Graham glared at a now sheepish looking Brennan and shook his head slowly. “I’m not about to leave you with a Neverland wolf, not after what happened.” His voice was low and gruff, but not enough, and Brennan whipped his head up suddenly.

“What happened?” Brennan demanded, the concern for his son evident in his words. He searched over Killian’s face, now noticing fresh scars and the softness of tissue that had previously been bruised. “Killian, tell me what happened.”

When Killian didn’t answer, Graham stepped forward, shielding his friend behind him protectively. “I’ll tell you what happened,” Graham began angrily, prodding Brennan in the chest with a rigid finger. “That bastard beta of yours, Walsh, tortured your son,” Graham spat, moving his arm to point behind him at Killian. “ _Tortured,”_ he reiterated spitefully, his temper flaring. “ _For. Fun._ ”

Brennan’s breathing staggered, his face turning grey and his expression pained. He had heard stories of Walsh’s extracurricular activities, and some of them had made his stomach turn, the sheer dedication of the wolf to the craft of extracting information and then some, the stuff of nightmares. To know that it had happened to his son, his baby boy, made Brennan’s blood boil.

“He chained your son to a tree, cut him, made him bleed and then electrocuted him until he changed.” Graham was fuming, his nostrils flaring. “Who knows what would have happened if Emma and I had not reached him in time.”

“Is this true?” Brennan gasped, looking between his two sons, Liam’s head nodding sadly.

“Yes.” Killian grabbed his attention with his rage, his head swinging back to his youngest. “I was in wolf form for three days, healing, repairing the damage that son of a bitch did to me!”

“I had no idea,” Brennan said sympathetically, stepping towards Killian and ignoring Graham’s bravado. Brennan reached out and placed his hand on Killian’s shoulder, relieved when his son did not flinch away. “I swear to you, Killian. I did not know.”

Killian turned to face his father, the clear trauma of the event plastered all over his features. 

“How could you not?” Graham growled darkly.

“Do all of your pack members know of _your_ transgressions?” Brennan snapped. “It’s clear the child is yours, so, dedicated to your pack or not, you are in no position to judge me right now!”

Before Graham had any chance to answer, the sound of footsteps rained down on them, echoing through the hallway. The wooden steps fell silent, a brief pause ending when Emma burst through the huge, oak door, pushing it so hard it slammed into the wall behind it and made Hunter jump to his feet. She was filled with panic, eyes searching wildly as she sought out the face of Graham among the four wolves in front of her.

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me call?” she cried, gasping for breath as she motioned for Graham to follow her back upstairs. “It’s the baby!” Emma took off, feet pounding against the creaking floorboards of the hallway.

Forgetting all of their previous interactions that had tested the limits of their friendships, all four men gave chase after Emma. “What is it?” Graham demanded, taking the stairs three steps at a time in a giant stride. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s coming!” Emma declared, stepping down into the room and racing to Ruby’s bedside.

Graham made it into the room first, his love laying on the bed covered in sweat, her maternity pants discarded to one side of the room and a sheet draped over her knees. She had been moved to the bottom of the bed, her feet on the edge of the mattress and her head propped up on some pillows. He froze, Killian and Liam, colliding with his bulk as they too stepped into the room, taking in the scene before them with equal shock.

“Yeah, we know, it’s too soon,” Ruby growled through a contraction, irritated at the three dumbstruck expressions she could clearly read. 

“Ruby, I…” Graham stammered, watching another contraction wrack her body. She was clammy, the sheet on either side of her body bunched up in a clear attempt to relieve some pain, her expression that of exhaustion.

“No time,” Ruby shook her head, dismissing his worries. “This baby is coming now, whether we like it or not, and as I am the one having it, you need to captain the ship.” Her words were cut off when she screamed in agony, the first really painful contraction rippling through her and intensifying the need to push.

“What can we do?” Liam said quickly. The brothers pushed past the expectant father, shucking off their jackets at the same time and rolling up their shirt sleeves to their elbows. Emma ushered them to either side of the bed where they dropped to their knees, ignoring the discomfort in their joints as their kneecaps rolled over the hardwood flooring. They each took Ruby’s hand and she had enough energy left in her to offer them both a thankful smile before another wave of pain hit her. 

“ARRRGGGGGGHHHHHH! Now, Humbert!” Ruby screamed, slamming her head back into the pillow.

“I’ll help you,” Brennan offered, appearing behind Graham and pressing a hand into the middle of the man’s back. Graham almost tripped forward, caught between a paralyzing fear of what was to come and the anticipation of meeting his son. He stumbled forward, looking back at Brennan who too had discarded his jacket and was busy rolling up his sleeves, ordering Emma to fetch more towels. “I delivered Killian,” he said firmly, catching his son’s eye.

“I need to push,” Ruby screeched, her fingernails digging into Liam’s hand harshly. He winced at the pain, fighting his urge to pull his hand away. “I don’t care which one of you does it, but one of you need to check my dilation.”

Brennan and Graham stared at her for a second before looking at each other with a blank expression.

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” Emma grumbled. She barged through the two of them, thrusting a pile of towels into Brennan’s hands before settling herself between Ruby’s thighs. “Okay, tell me how to do it,” Emma said quickly, rolling up the sheet to Ruby’s knees and recoiling at the sight.

“What?” Graham asked concerned, stepping forward until Brennan’s hand on his shoulder stopped him suddenly.

Brennan shook his head. “I wouldn’t look if I were you,” he warned with a smirk.

“Put...put your fingers inside of me…” Ruby panted, her hand crushing Killian’s now.

“For the love of…” Killian ground out, his words almost a whisper as Liam shot him a knowing look.

“Okay, now what?” Emma asked eagerly. She reached between Ruby’s thighs but pulled her hand back as if she had been burned almost instantly. 

“What?” Ruby demanded, wide eyed and sweating so much her hair was sticking to her forehead. “Emma, what is it?”

“His head,” Emma gulped. “His head is almost out.”

“Okay, time to meet your boy,” Brennan smiled, slapping Graham on the shoulder.

Emma moved aside, positioning herself next to Brennan so they were on either side of Graham. They each lifted one of Ruby’s legs and set about creating some sort of live stirrups for her to push against, and Ruby dug her heels into their cupped hands that were resting on their abdomens. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what they had.

Graham swallowed hard, a line of sweat trickling down his back as he knelt down on the floor between Ruby’s legs. The faintest wisps of strawberry blonde hair poked out from Ruby’s opening and Graham felt his lips curve into a smile. “He has red hair,” he gushed emotionally, looking over the sheet to catch her eye.

“I told you,” Liam teased Killian with a know it all grin that Killian returned with a grumble.

“Baby,” Ruby called softly between contractions, ignoring the conversation about her baby’s hair colour, her body already exhausted from the accelerated effort of such a quick birth. Graham looked up at her, the rest of the room falling away at that moment and his lips twitched nervously into a weak smile. “I love you,” she said, a tear rolling down her face.

“I love you too,” he told her, emotion cracking his own voice. “You can do this, okay? For Hunter,” he teased, letting the tears fall from his own eyes and forcing down the lump in his throat. Ruby laughed, letting her head fall back against the pillows again when a huge contraction hit her. She exhaled a long groan when she felt Davin’s head slip out. 

“Nearly there, Red,” Liam whispered in her ear, brushing some tendrils of sticky hair from her face. “You’ve got this,” he soothed, slipping his hand into hers again as she nodded in agreement.

“One more push, baby,” Graham prompted her, the face of his son immediately etched into his mind forever. “Come on,” Graham whimpered, more to himself as he braced his hands under Devin’s tiny head and waited for Ruby’s cry.

He didn’t have long to wait before another contraction pulsed through Ruby’s body and she bore down with everything she had. Her pushing moved both Brennan and Emma backward, even though their werewolf strength, and she was shaking with the effort of the push. Killian and Liam linked arms behind her back, forming another solid mass for her to push against as she gave everything she had into birthing her son, finally collapsing back into the pillows dazed and about to faint from the exertion.

The cry woke her up, bringing her back to reality with a blurred vision as she looked down her own body and noticed Graham standing at the foot of the bed with the naked newborn in his arms. Graham was laughing, half crying too, his emotion overwhelming him as his son kicked out his newborn legs and found his lungs, screaming into the room.

Emma dropped Ruby’s leg and fetched her nearby supply bag for some scissors to cut the cord whilst Brennan covered Ruby’s legs with the sheet and moved to retrieve a towel. The babe howled out short, deep breaths that were followed by a harrowing wail of displeasure at leaving his warm, cozy home. When Brennan returned with the towel, he laid it out on the bed and instructed Graham on how to swaddle the tot, Davin’s cries instantly disappearing in the safety of the blanket.

Graham quickly moved to Ruby’s side, both Jones brother’s giving them some space but staying at the head end of the bed. Emma attended to Ruby’s afterbirth as she had been instructed before they all arrived and gave Killian a warm smile that she couldn’t seem to wipe from her face. There was something magical about birth, and maybe it was her heat urging her, but in that exact moment, Emma wanted nothing more than to have Killian over and over until they made pups of their own.

“Say hi to Mommy,” Graham cooed, reaching over to rest the wrapped baby bundle on Ruby’s chest. She clutched him to her and Davin’s little fingers stretched outwards, his snorting breaths calming as his milky grey eyes searching over the face of his mother. 

“Hi, my sweet boy,” Ruby sobbed happily, her finger stroking down the side of Davin’s face.

“He’s beautiful, guys, congratulations,” Liam said with a grin. 

“From both his uncles,” Killian added quickly, shooting Liam a smirk.

“Why don't we let you guys have a moment?” Brennan suggested, gathering up his jacket and motioning to the door. All three Jones men nodded in agreement and just as they were about to exit the room, Ruby called out to Emma.

“Thank you,” she beamed, her lip quivering. “So much.” Emma nodded, lacing her fingers through Killian’s as she exited the room behind the brothers, Brennan pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click of the latch.

“I’m so proud of you,” Graham whispered, pressing his lips to Ruby’s forehead and cradling her skull to his face. “So, so proud of you,” he sighed with joy, inhaling the new baby smell that was invading his senses and instantly becoming addictive.

Ruby tilted her head back until their lips met, the slow languid kiss full of emotion and comfort. Davin wriggled a little, a soft whine coming from his tiny mouth as he squeaked in Ruby’s arms and she broke the kiss to gaze upon him once more.

“Would you look what we made?” she breathed in awe of the tiny red-haired boy in her arms. “How is he so handsome?” She teased, looking back to Graham with a twisted frown. 

“His mother is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” Graham told her tenderly, tucking a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I’m sure he gets it from his father.” Ruby’s jaw dropped open but too exhausted to argue she simply snuggled into Graham’s shoulder and let a single chuckle escape her throat.

“You hear that, Davin,” Ruby cooed, stroking her fingers over the baby’s back and immediately loving the way he rolled his eyes up to her at the sound of her voice. “Your dad is a joker, but luckily for me, I don’t have to endure him alone anymore.” 

Graham scoffed, aghast by her words. “I don’t think he understands what you are saying,” he whispered, careful not to scare the newborn with the boom of his voice. Graham’s hand gingerly tucked around Davin’s head and he pressed his lips to the side of the baby’s head, earning him a high pitched cry.

Graham quickly pulled his hand away, unsure of why his son had cried out, but his nervousness around the newborn boy just made Ruby laugh. “Oh, I think he does,” she teased, smiling as Davin settled in her arms once more.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your awesome comments! I knew you would all enjoy the birth of baby Davin! <3

“To Graham and Ruby!” Brennan declared loudly, arm raised above his head and a small, glass tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, and the sound of ice cubes clinking the side of glasses echoed in their corner of the pub as Liam and Killian joined him in his toast.

“Graham and Ruby!” Liam echoed gleefully.

“To Graham and Ruby,” Killian repeated quietly, his voice a soft whisper next to his brother’s. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he was also now sitting in a public place with his brother and his father, so his anxiety was a little spiked. He gave his father a suspicious sideways glance as he threw his head back and swallowed the rum in his glass, the burn of the liquid causing a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Three glasses hit the dark wooden table together, years of grime evident in the thickness of the lacklustre varnish coat. It was patchy, shiny in places where others were dull and Killian tapped his outstretched arm at the spot next to his glass. His focus was on his fingertip, the nail digging into the soft table top where it really shouldn’t, and he ground his back teeth a little as a silence fell over their table.

“So,” Brennan began, twisting his body in the chair next to Killian’s so he was facing his son. 

Killian knew what was coming and he held up his hand to cut him off, his pointed finger turning into a balled fist instantly. “Please, don’t apologise again,” he bit out.

“Killian,” Liam admonished, a frown on his face. “Not here,” he warned gently, scooting his chair forward under the table when a gaggle of humans sauntered past laughing. 

“Look, Killian, you asked me here, remember? I can just as easily not be here.” Brennan looked to Liam for help with his wayward youngest, but neither had time to say a word before Killian snapped again.

“Oh, that’s what you are good at, isn’t it? Running away.” Killian slumped back in his chair, fist balling even harder on the table, leg twitching under the table and bobbing up and down on the ball of his foot.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down for a second. Shall I get us some more drinks?” Liam pushed himself to his feet, pausing to await Killian’s response. He was met with silence, his brother clearly haunted by not only his past but also more recent events.

“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Brennan shook his head, pointing at Killian accusingly. They had been in the pub some hours, firstly to celebrate the birth of Davin and then, once the excitement had dissipated, to talk over Kilian’s plan.

Killian had wanted answers. He was convinced his father’s mistakes could change his future, teaching him how to avoid the council and allow him to be with Emma. Only, his father had given him nothing more than the cold, hard realisation that the more he tried, the less likely it would ever be that he could be with Emma. Maybe if she was a lesser wolf, but the heir to Misthaven would never be able to simply disappear. “I think your brother has had enough,” Brennan whispered low, his words directed at Liam.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!” Killian’s voice boomed over the table and the barman shot them a look. “Maybe you should get some more drinks, Liam,” Killian spat, waving an arm towards the bar. “Father might not return if he goes.” Liam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and gave his father a knowing nod before making his way to the bar. Brennan watched him go, his demeanour and patience for Killian wearing thin.

“Now, see here, boy,” Brennan growled, leaning over and grabbing Killian by the head. His hand splayed out over the younger wolf’s skull, fingers digging into the thin covering of flesh painfully, and Killian tried to pull away uselessly. “I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you want,” he growled into Killian’s ear, eyes flicking around the pub in case anyone was watching. “But if you want to play this little dominance act, then I would be more than willing to take this outside.” Killian gave his father a sideways glance, their ears touching, and Killian turned his head away from his father’s stare as best he could in his position. “Better,” Brennan said softly, loosening his grip.

“Get off of me,” Killian spat through clenched teeth, wrenching his head from his father’s grip. 

Brennan cocked his head sideways, taking in his broken son. Scars, fresh and old, littered Killian’s body from what he could see, and his heart softened instantly. Brennan had known bigger, pureblood wolves with less marks than his son. Killian’s fury was justified, his frustrations even more so. Brennan understood how he just wanted to be with the woman he loved, he had known that feeling, but he also knew Killian was trying to distract himself from the mental scars of being tortured.

It wasn’t his fault. He was half human after all.

“Killian, I can help you be a better wolf,” Brennan coaxed. “Faster and stronger. You can protect yourself, for next time.”

Killian stifled a laugh. “I don’t plan on being tortured again any time soon.”

“Of course not, but…” Brennan didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Killian cut him off anger, his words venomous and spiteful.

“It’s clear you cannot help me with what I need, so stop trying to find ways to bond with me. We are not the same, we never will be. Liam might have forgiven you for breaking our mother’s heart, but you would have to _really_ sacrifice to win my trust.”

“Is your hatred for me or Neverland right now?” Brennan asked gently, trying to pull his son out of his rage. “Or do you just hate wolves?” he suggested, watching Killian flinch at his words.

Killian looked up at his father, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth once more. He was void of expression, the cold, dark stare he was giving his father full of resentment that he couldn’t control. Killian’s inner wolf was channelling his rage and Emma had unlocked the beast, paving the way for his true nature to reveal itself, and whilst it was a human-like wolf for her, he seemed unable to contain his wolfish humanity right now. Killian had thought he was okay with his father, had thought he understood the reasons behind his departure, but as it turned out, he was no closer to being able to welcome him with open arms than he had first thought.

“The only pureblood I’ve seen you tolerate is Humbert,” Brennan sighed, waving a hand at Killian.

“He saved my life,” Killian growled defensively.

“He’s still a purebred, Killian. A big, bad wolf who has done his fair share of killing for his pack. He might have been your savior, but tell me,” Brennan pried, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the table. He laced his fingers and licked his lips, eyebrows arching on his forehead. “Do you not see how we are all the same?”

“I’m nothing like you. You made Liam and I without a second thought. If you _had_ cared, you would have just left our mother alone and not forced us into this life.” Killian’s cheeks flushed with his anger, pricking pink under his assaulting words, his voice low and even so only a Were could hear.

“So we’re all monsters,” Brennan surmised sarcastically.

“No, not all pureblood wolves are monsters,” Killian grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Of course,” Brennan nodded with realisation. “The Nolan wolf. Emma.”

“Don’t you say her name,” Killian challenged, looking his father up and down from across the table, sizing up his potential opponent for battle. “Blood doesn’t matter with us…”

“And it didn’t with your mother and I,” Brennan interrupted. “And yet, we were ripped apart. Forced apart by the powers that be, the powers that govern our kind.” Killian shot him another look, nostrils flaring. “ _Her_ kind, Killian. She _is_ a pureblood.”

“We’ll find a way to be together,” Killian said defiantly. “I will not fail where you have. I will fight for love.”

“Listen to you. You think Nolan will accept you because his daughter loves you? You’re wrong, Killian, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m willing to die for love,” Killian said in a shaky breath, swallowing hard when his own words took him by surprise. “For some of us, love is more powerful than fear.”

“Is that what you think me leaving you, your brother and the woman I loved was?” Brennan snorted a laugh, slamming his hand down on the sticky table surface. “It wasn’t fear, my boy, it was sacrifice. I sacrificed _my_ love, so that you could all survive.” Brennan’s ear tips turned red, something Killian knew that his own did when he was riled. “You may not believe it, but I love you, Killian. You are my son, and I love you.”

Killian was taken back by his father’s words, the air leaving his lungs and his face paling. He had waited his entire life to hear those words from his father, hear them actually spoken to him rather than in a general passing comment from his mother or brother. It shook him. He wasn’t ready to hear it. “Prove it,” he whimpered, his gruff voice shaking as tears pricked at his eyes. Brennan’s silence spoke volumes and Killian licked his lips, sucking in a defeated breath. 

Killian pushed himself to his feet, stopping to look upon his father who was staring at his empty glass in contemplation. Of what Killian didn’t know, but he had given him enough of his time. He needed to get back to Emma, back to Liam’s loft and be with her, to make sure she was safe. He felt like only he could keep her safe but before he could make a move to exit the pub, his father grabbed his forearm and halted him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Brennan said desperately, flicking his gaze up to Killian with pleading eyes. The conflict on Brennan’s features made him frown and Killian titled his head curiously. “There is a plan,” Brennan began, his voice hushed. He tugged on Killian’s arm until his son sat back in his chair, just as Liam arrived back to the table with three fresh rums.

“What plan?” Liam asked dumbly, repeating the tail end of the conversation he had just walked in on.

“Hush, boy,” Brennan whispered gruffly, pulling Liam into his seat too. He leaned forward, chin inches from the grimy table top and both Liam and Killian mirrored his actions. “There is a plan to attack Misthaven,” he admitted, casting a glance around the bar in case they had been followed.

“What? When?” Killian demanded, sitting back up with panic in his eyes. If Misthaven was to be attacked, Emma had to know.

“Soon,” Brennan told him. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”

“And how can we trust a Neverland wolf?” Killian growled, wrinkling his nose in disgust and shooting Liam a glance. “After everything.” 

“Killian, I didn’t know! Do you think I would have let him do those things to you if I had known you were his target?” Brennan bellowed, exasperated. “Walsh’s orders were to find the Nolan bitch but he got caught up in revenge. He has never stopped talking about how he would kill the wolf who gave him that scar.” Brennan's lips twitched into a proud smile that quickly faded away when he realised what he had said, and to who. “I didn’t mean…”

“Emma should know,” Liam insisted, distracting Killian from berating his father for his choice of words. Liam’s hand on his shoulder shook him roughly and he was confused for a second at Liam’s words. “She should go back to Misthaven.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?”

“To warn her family!” Liam told him, irritated. “Family is important, Killian.” Liam stared at him, his blue eyes flecked with grey that spoke to years of knowledge that Killian would only hope to acquire. Liam was older and he had lived more, loved more and lost more than anyone he knew. “It’s why you can’t go with her,” Liam shook his head defiantly. “You have to warn her and then stay away, lie low.”

“Like hell I will!” Killian barked.

“He’s right,” Brennan piped up. “You will not be welcome at Misthaven. The alpha will kill you because of what you are. You’ll never be accepted.”

Killian looked between the two men, both fatigued and haggard, the lines on their faces from a combination of the sun and long years of worrying. Brennan most likely always worried about Killian, always wondering if he had survived his first change as Liam had. Wondering if he was as strong. Liam had aged through worrying for his brother, watched him try to find out who he was through fight after fight until his brawl with Walsh opened his eyes to his true nature. Killian had nearly killed Walsh that night, teeth stained red with blood as they had fled and Killian simply smiling with an arrogance that showed exactly how close his wolf nature was to taking over. It had chilled Liam to the bone at what his brother was capable of.

“I’ll take my chances at Misthaven. Can’t be as bad as what Neverland did to me,” he said sadly.

“Jesus, Killian,” Liam scolded. “Now is not the time to be stubbornly blinded by love, or lust, or whatever Emma’s heat is doing to you.”

“I’m not,” Killian bit out again. 

“Then drop the hero complex and see sense!” Liam pleaded.

“This isn’t about being a hero, it’s about doing the right thing.” Killian pushed himself to his feet once more and straightened his jacket. “If you want to help, you’ll find out exactly when the attack is,” Killian said to his father, who nodded in agreement. “And help Graham get Ruby and Davin to a safe place,” he said to Liam. “If we can warn Misthaven before the attack, we could be spared.”

“This is madness,” Liam sighed into his hands, dragging his hands down his face. “David Nolan will _never_ spare a mongrel. He exiled his own brother!”

“I have to try,” Killian said sadly, giving his brother a tight lipped smile.

\--

Emma was beginning to worry. Killian had been gone for over three hours, talking with his father and Liam in a nearby pub. It was within walking distance but anything could’ve happened to him on his way back. Were they ambushed? Had Walsh finally found them? And why, after so long, had her lust not dissipated? Wolf heats were only supposed to last a few days at most, but it seemed Emma’s was hanging around.

And this time it was more intense than any before. It was definitely because of Killian, Emma had no doubt. From the second she had laid eyes on him in the bar, she was smitten. Using alcohol to lower their inhibition enough to fuck on his car was nothing, something she had done many times before, only this time it felt different. It felt real, warm, and she never wanted to feel any other way.

They were connected, Emma knew it and so did Killian. Whether they believed in the fates or not, there were just too many coincidences to prove their souls were anything but entwined. Emma could feel Killian all the time, his presence forever there, even when he was not. It calmed her a little to know she still felt him in the world, her heart beating in time with his wherever he happened to be, but her anxiety had been steadily growing as she awaited his return.

And it didn’t help that she was horny as hell. 

When she finally heard the click of the door latch, Emma was on her feet and running to the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Killian had barely closed the door behind himself when he turned and was slammed into full force by Emma, all of the breath leaving his lungs from the impact as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth sliding against his as he walked them back into the loft, hands cupping her behind and holding her aloft. There wasn’t an inch between their bodies, Emma flattening herself to his chest and moaning against his mouth when her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her blouse, her back arching for more friction and her mouth parting to invite his tongue inside of her own.

Killian’s mind was in a fog. Everything he had meant to tell her had disappeared the second he opened the door and was overpowered by her scent. Emma was everywhere, in every room and he was immediately turned on, his thoughts invaded by their antics earlier that day. He knew his anger from talking to his father would evaporate with her love, love he craved like the air he breathed. He had needed to touch her, needed to feel her, needed to see her, and now she was all over him, saying everything all at once without uttering a single word.

Killian’s legs hit the edge of Liam’s couch and he fell forward, dropping Emma from his grasp, her fingers scraping through Killian’s scruffy beard and her lips tearing from his. She just had the foresight to grab onto his belt, looping her finger behind the leather strap and pulling him with her, his arms flying out to stop his descent so he didn’t crush her. Killian clambered over the couch arm, a sly smirk across his lips as he captured her mouth once more, tongue begging for entry immediately. His hands found the edges of her blouse, buttons flying in all directions when he pulled the opposing sides apart. Emma squeaked in delight.

Eyes closed, her hands threaded through his beard once more; it was longer than when they had met, but not distracting from his stunning good looks one bit. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, but from her current position she was helpless, only able to find his elfish ears and give them a playful tug, her open mouth smile letting a short, salacious laugh escape against his. Killian raised an eyebrow, not breaking the kiss or opening his own eyes, not an ounce of distaste towards the way Emma was abusing his ears. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Killian awkwardly kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch with the dull thudding sound of rubber against wood. Emma let her hands roam over his skull, fingertips dancing over the chords of his neck and across the width of his shoulders, his eager panting turning her on more than she had ever thought possible. Killian’s hands kneaded her bra clad breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over the hard buds beneath the padded lace and Emma hooked her bare feet into the back of his thighs in response.

Her hands found his belt, the clatter of metal the only sound they could hear other than their breathing, but as she tried to pull it open, Killian grabbed her hands. Emma was confused for a second, about to pull her mouth from his when, with a smirk, Killian raised her arms above her head and crossed them at her wrists, holding them both against the couch with one, powerful hand. Emma let out a little appeased sigh, her lungs screaming for the oxygen that invaded her chest when Killian slid his mouth from hers and began kissing her face.

He kissed her cheek, flushed red from her arousal, the flesh like lava under his lips. His kiss-swollen lips found her ear lobe and when he latched his mouth onto the bulb of flesh, all of the hair on Emma’s neck stood to attention and she arched off the couch with a moan. Her hands grabbed at his, trying to be free but not really at the same time because the sentiment it gave her to be controlled by a more dominant wolf was intoxicating. She bit her bottom lip, hips bucking up into his as he teased his lips down her neck and slid his searing hot tongue across her collarbone, gobbling up her bra strap with his teeth and pulling it over the curve of her shoulder.

Emma gasped, her nipples hardening even more in their padded confines, the material of her bra chafing against the peaks as she writhed and strained against his grip. She whimpered in her throat, swallowing a hard lump down that she had forgotten to until now. Her mouth tasted of Killian, the burn of second-hand rum hitting the heat in her stomach like a firework and igniting the throbbing sensation between her legs.

Finally, with his own guttural growl, Killian rolled his hips and ground his hardening length into the apex of Emma’s thighs. It was like a paradoxical relief for both of them, sating their needs only temporarily, both of them taking a second to let out a breathy sigh. Killian’s grip on Emma’s wrists tightened, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to compose himself with a shudder after inhaling the smell of her skin.

“Exquisite,” Killian hummed, the taste of Emma dancing on his tongue.

Emma turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead, the only part she could reach and Killian offered her a quick, wolfish grin as he followed the curve of her breast with his mouth, planting delicate kisses to her skin with each of her heaving breaths. He smirked against her skin when she whined in frustration, his nose dipping into the valley of her breastsand inhaling even more of her strong musk, the perspiration that had begun to form there transferring her pheromones directly to his senses.

“I am helpless when you are around, Emma,” Killian told her tenderly. “I could savour you forever.”

He took his time, dragging the tip of his nose across her breasts, from one to the other and back again, inhaling her, tasting her in his mouth from smell alone. He thrust his hips at her again, his other hand skimming down the side of her body until it reached her hip, pushing her into the cushions of the couch when she tried to buck her hips back at him. Emma pouted but then a devilish grin erupted on her face when Killian’s hand found his jeans and popped open the button, pushing his fly down and sighing with relief when his erection finally sprang free from the fold in his boxers.

“There’s my big boy,” Emma purred, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze and biting her lip hungrily. “So much for savouring,” she purred. Killian grinned, his tongue skimming over the ridges of his canines before he surged forward once more and kissed her hard. Emma felt her neck spasm from the force and she could feel the tingle of pins and needles down her elevated arms. Killian must have read her mind because no sooner had she shifted her weight beneath him to relieve the ache, Killian released her arms and moved both his hands to the waistband of her leggings.

“Mine,” he muttered against her lips, his tone dark and feral. It set Emma’s blood on fire and she was lifted effortlessly as he tugged her leggings and her underwear down in one go, his fingernails scraping the skin on her hip and making her cry out. 

“I was getting worried,” Emma smirked playfully. “I was scared something had happened.”

“Hmm?” Killian hummed through a daze.

“You were gone so long,” Emma panted, frowning when she realised he had stopped undressing her. 

In the next second, Killian was hit with a sudden remorse, remembering the information he had come back to relay to the half naked woman in front of him. The smell of Emma’s arousal, the sweetness like a refreshing, thirst quenching drink, pulled him in, clouding his mind. He was dizzy, drunk on the temptation between her legs already and with a frustrated growl and a last inhale, he stood and tried to ignore the pounding blood in his engorged member.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a mess, wisps of flyaway blonde sticking out in all directions from static and her blouse hanging open loosely. “Killian, what is it?”

“I can’t,” Killian growled to himself, righting himself to his feet and turning from her with a blush. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and ignoring the way his erection still strained against his fly as he rebuttoned them.

“What happened?” Emma pried, pulling the edges of her blouse together to cover her bra. Her skin still buzzed from his touch, but something was wrong, something had happened and for a second she felt guilty about putting her own urges before anything else.

“I…” Killian began, his face turning into a grimace as he tried to will away Emma’s scent. It was everywhere, invading his nostrils like a temptation he feared he could not resist much longer.

Emma lifted her legs and moved to a sit, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and reaching to the floor, pulling her leggings back on. They would never get any conversation finished like this, her so tightly wound and him even more so. She stood, raking her fingers through her tousled hair and shaking it over her shoulders, moving to him, feet silently padding across the wooden floor.

“Killian?” Emma whispered gently, her hands smoothing over the material of his shirt that covered his back. He gasped, tensing momentarily before he relaxed into her touch, her talented fingertips kneading the ripple of muscles on his shoulders. Emma pressed her lips to his back, the material of his shirt tickling her lips as she kissed his spine, her hands sliding down his arms and her fingers lacing with his. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t think straight,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, soothing his self-directed anger as she wrapped her arms around his slender waist. “Have I worn you out?” She teased, pushing herself onto her tip toes and tucking her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

Killian’s laugh vibrated through her chest as she embraced him, his hands finding hers and holding her to him lovingly. “Not a chance,” he quipped. “I have something to tell you and I think it would be better received if we were clothed.”

“Oh?” Emma pulled back a little, heels hitting the floor with a thump as she arched her brow. “Will it lead to more enjoyable activities?” Emma teased, her smile lighting up her face only briefly before Killian turned in her arms and she felt the pang of sadness he was emitting.

“Not this time, love,” Killian admitted sadly. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and watching the motion of his digits intently. 

He was nervous, but more than that, he was petrified of the words he was about to say. Emma would want to return home to warn her family, he knew that much was a fact, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news that he had already decided to go with her. He knew it was a death sentence, his brother’s warnings had not fallen on deaf ears, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Emma, his half of the moon, and making sure she stayed shining as bright as she could.

Killian knew, with all his heart, Emma’s light would burn out if her father died. It was why he was willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. His life for her happiness. Killian knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell Emma about the plot to attack Misthaven. She had a right to know, to be given the chance to stop it, and he would be there, fighting at her side, regardless of if he were welcome or not.

“What is it?” Emma asked worried, searching his face. “Killian, you can tell me anything,” she assured him softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of his brow, easing the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh, avoiding her gaze again. “I’m not sure there is any easy way to say this,” he faltered, swallowing hard.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” Emma said, her face paling.

“It’s Misthaven,” Killian said, the word on his tongue already like the seal on his fate. “Neverland plans to attack Misthaven. James means to kill your father, Emma.” Killian looked up finally, Emma’s pupils wide and the edges of her eyes watery with tears that threatened to spring from her eyelids.

“How do you know?” She managed weakly.

“My father,” Killian told her with a slight hint of aggression. “He is trying to make amends, prove he loves me,” Killian bit out, the term of endearment striking anger into his heart. Emma gave him a confused look, her head shaking a little as she tried to fathom his words. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian dismissed his rant with a shake of his head. “I came to tell you as soon as I found out.”

“When?” Emma managed, dazed with anxiety.

“We don’t know,” Killian admitted sadly.

“You don’t know?” Emma screeched, stepping from his embrace and running her hands through her hair. She paced away from him, Killian’s heart-shattering.

“My father is trying to find out,” Killian assured her, trying to appease her stress.

“Can we trust him?” Emma spun back to face him and he answered her with silence. He had been asking himself the same question all day. “He is a Neverland wolf, right? Why would he tell us something like this?”

“I can only assume he feels guilty,” Killian shrugged, moving towards her and catching her as she paced passed him. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and that was all Emma needed for the dam of sorrow to burst, hot, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against Killian’s chest, clutching the material of his shirt, her hands shaking as sobs wracked her body.

“This is my fault,” she cried.

“What? Absolutely not!” Killian told her firmly. “This isn’t and will never be your fault, Emma, you hear me?” He pulled her from his chest, clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head until he caught her gaze. Emma clutched his hands to her face, suddenly child-like and weak, and Killian titled his head sideways sympathetically. “You hear me?” He repeated softly, offering her a twitch of a smile when she finally met his gaze.

Emma nodded. Killian had the ability to calm her instantly, smoothing out the tension in her bones with a single action. It could be his touch, or his smile but it was always him. Part of Emma’s sadness was the realisation that their romance was now no longer fun, the true nature of their dangerous liaison hitting her like a truck. If she wanted to stay with Killian, she could, but they would forever be looking over their shoulders for Walsh or the Neverland pack. If she returned to Misthaven she would have to do so alone and she wasn’t sure which option scared her the most.

“I can’t lose you,” Emma sniffed, her hand sliding from his and flattening over his chest. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest, she could feel it thundering against her palm, because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“You won’t,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“I have to go home,” Emma whimpered.

“I know,” Killian barely whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. She let out another heart wrenching cry and his closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears that would stain his face at any second. He took a breath, the air between their faces minimal and with shaky lips, tilted his head and planted a soft kiss to Emma’s lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No!” Emma cried. Killian nodded, holding her forearms as she tried to step back away from him once more. 

“I’m coming with you to help your father,” he told her, affirming the fear on her face.

“Killian…” Emma began, shocked.

“I know,” he said softly, licking his lips. “But I can’t let you go alone. When the time comes, I have to come with you.”

“But, my father.” Emma didn’t have to say anything else because they both knew what it meant for him to even set foot on Misthaven land, let alone show up with the heir on his arm. 

“It will be okay,” Killian lied, forcing a weak smile. “Family is important. I can’t in good conscience risk yours knowing I could have done something.”

“So is love,” Emma said on a breathy sigh. “Our love is important.” Her lower lip trembled as she looked up to him with wide eyes, blurry and filled with tears that never seemed to end. Dark lines stained her face and Killian cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing away the fallen droplets with his thumbs.

“Our love is the most important thing in my life,” Killian told her tenderly, fingers tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

“So stay here,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I’ll come for you when I’ve warned my father.”

Killian appreciated her attempts at trying to find a solution, but he had already been over the scenarios a thousand times in his head, and there was no situation he could think of where David Nolan accepted him. Not a single one.

“We both know your father will never let you return to me,” Killian sighed sadly. 

Emma’s sobs began again and she threw herself into his arms, hand finding the back of his head and pulling his face to hers. She crushed her lips to his fiercely, kissing him desperately as even more tears fell down her face. He kissed her back, his despair etched into his cheeks by his own tears, lips quivering against hers. There was so much emotion in their kiss but they moved slowly, lips sliding gently with passion, breaths hitching from their sobbing like they might never get another chance.

“He’ll kill you,” Emma whimpered, her voiced lace with the most sadness Killian had ever heard. 

“He can try,” Killian teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smile. Emma pressed her mouth to his again, tongue tasting the seam of his lips, memorising the texture and feel of them against her own.

“Is this what the dream means?” Emma cried, breaking the kiss but pressing her face to his. “The names on the tombstones? Are they ours?” Killian brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, shaking his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Killian promised faithfully. “And I’ll be with you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Emma whispered on a sigh.

“And I you.” Killian kissed her again, long and slow, but he hated the fact that whilst he had promised he would always be with her, he didn’t know if he would be alive or just a memory in her heart.


	20. Chapter 20

Not long after their conversation, Killian had heard from his father, who assured them both that he would know the time and date of the attack before the end of the day. He was confident it was not imminent. The Neverland wolves were not ready, still training all day and all night, and James was predictable anyway. Brennan had said that he always let the wolves go out the night before an attack, to blow off steam and prepare themselves, but so far had not instructed them to do so.

“So, we have tonight,” Killian told Emma softly, his eyes flitting over her figure as she sat on the other end of Liam’s couch. They had tried to stay apart as much as possible, restraining themselves, and he offered her a small smile when she caught him looking at her. “By tomorrow my father will know more and we can head back to Misthaven.”

“Only tonight?” Emma said sadly.

Killian nodded, giving her a short nod. “Don’t worry, we’ll make the most of it.”

“Don’t talk like this is our last night together,” Emma said curtly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Killian began, but Emma cut him off with one of her adorable rants.

“Because this isn’t, Jones. I swear, if you think I am willing to give up what makes my heart feel so complete, you have another thing coming.” Emma exhaled hard, a pink tinge to her cheeks.

“You’re cute when you rant,” Killian told her with a smile, the distance between them still too large.

“I mean it,” Emma told him firmly, sinking further into the cushions. They enveloped her body like a pseudo hug, a poor substitute for the wolf two seats over, but it was all she could endure right now. It wasn’t just Killian who was fighting his urges, but they had agreed that if they worked together, they could manage. Maybe.

“Emma,” Killian said her name like it was everything, and she met his sympathetic gaze with a sigh. “We have to be realistic. We both know what’s going to happen when we go to Misthaven, so _if_ tonight is all we have, we need to make it count.”

“As good as the sex is,” Emma smirked, her lips curving into a grin as she recalled the feeling of having Killian over every inch of her body. “I don’t want our time together to be a reminder of what we could potentially lose.”

“I understand,” Killian nodded in agreement, wetting his lips with his tongue. Emma was right. Again. He had to live in the now and stop treating their future like it wasn’t going to happen at all.

“I just want to spend time with you, like a normal couple, cuddling, playing games, just…” Emma blew out a breath, her frustration evident.

“I know,” Killian agreed tenderly.

“Now I know you are half human, I am almost in love with the idea of getting to know that side just as much as I am in love with your wolf.” Emma flopped her head back and rolled it sideways, catching Killian watching her babble with a reassuring smile.

“I’m a very boring human,” Killian told her affectionately, leaning his elbow on the back of Liam’s plush couch and resting his head on his hand. His fingers flexed in the back of his hair, lightly scratching his head.

“Is it too much to ask the universe to give us this one break?” Emma growled, ignoring his attempts at easing her anxiety, head rolling back on the couch and her eyes pinching closed.

“No, love,” Killian interjected gently. Emma looked back over to him and he gave her that boyish smile again that made her melt. “So cute when you rant,” he repeated, his grin widening and his cheeks almost touching his eyes.

“I’m still not happy,” Emma grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. She had replaced her blouse with one of Liam’s old t-shirts due to their earlier haste in disrobing, and Killian had promised to replace her clothes when everything was over with. Emma dearly wished to believe him but was struggling to accept his nonchalant attitude.

“It will be okay,” Killian promised her yet again, desperate to reach out for her hand. “Though I’m not happy about the length of this couch,” he smirked, casting a furiously aggravated glance over the offending cushions between them.

“Killian, we can’t,” Emma half whined, half laughed, hating the words as they left her mouth. “You can’t control yourself,” she accused with a playful grin.

“ _I_ can’t control myself?” He laughed. “Might I remind you that my back is still throbbing from how hard you jumped me when I got back earlier.” Emma blushed under his stare.

“This is absolutely the worst time to be in heat,” she huffed, dropping her gaze to her legs, tucked up close to her body in an attempt to make herself as small as possible.

“I wish I could help,” Killian said gently, his hand twitching beside his body and fingers flexing out towards hers.

“You could try being a little more unattractive,” Emma teased.

Killian gasped, raising an eyebrow at her and then, unable to resist any longer, he crept along the length of the couch on his knees. He supported his weight with his hand on the back of the furniture, inhaling Emma’s musk as he neared her, her divine flavor like a fragrant flower in his nostrils. “I am wounded,” he grinned, shaking his head, sinking down beside her and resting a hand to the curve of her thigh. It wasn’t much, but it was enough contact to fend off the wolf for now. “I could say the same thing about you. Even your wolf form would help ease my temptation.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, poking the inside of her cheek as she contemplated his words. He was right, either way they did it. If one of them was in wolf form, and the other in human form, the pull would be easier to control. Humans were not inherently attracted to canines and vice versa. It was the perfect plan. Killian spied her face, deep in thought, and twisted his mouth into a pout.

“What did I say?” He quizzed her suspiciously. His other hand found the back of her head, stroking through her tresses automatically, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of her neck through her locks. “What are you thinking?”

“Wolf form!” Emma said simply, slapping her legs. She jumped to her feet, watched by a confused Killian who was pushed aside. She stalked to the bedroom and he waited on the couch, hearing a muffled commotion. He shuffled to the edge of the seat, feet bobbing on the floor, ready to accept her explanation, but instead, he was met with silence.

“Emma?” Killian called out, his voice uncertain.

The silence was broken suddenly by the gentle tapping on nails on the hardwood floor, the only sound that gave Emma away as she approached the door frame. She peered around the jamb, ears pricked high on her head and if Killian didn’t know any better he would say she was blushing at him, nervously avoiding stepping out into the lounge. She gave him a look, a questioning glance that had him relaxing instantly, dipping her head in submission of his next words.

“Much better,” he told her, arm extended out towards her and his shoulders relaxing as the need to ravage her all but disappeared.

Emma began to wag her tail, ears folding flat on her head as she approached him, eager to finally feel his hands on her skin. Killian obliged instantly, digging his fingers into her pelt until he felt the warmth of her skin on his, raking his nails through her fur as he stroked her with nothing but affection. Emma’s fur was soft on his digits, softer than any wolf pelt he had ever known, and it danced with a mixture of hues that made her even more beautiful in wolf form.

Emma nuzzled her head into his hands like a pet dog who hadn’t seen its owner for a time, a happy, puppy-like whine escaping her maw as he obliged her request for contact and petted her lovingly. She felt all of her worries leave her, every thought of home and her family fading away into nothing. She would return home, and it would be soon, but for right now, she was exactly where she needed to be.

“We need food,” Killian suddenly exclaimed. Much to her annoyance, Killian stopped stroking his fingers through her fur and Emma sat back on her haunches, cocking her head to one side. “Liam has no food in this place,” he told her and as he rose to his feet, she skidded backwards against the gripless flooring, eager to avoid getting stepped on.

Killian made his way to the kitchen to confirm what he had already known and Emma trotted after him obediently. Killian pulled open every cupboard, mumbling to himself about his good for nothing brother as he found a drawer stuffed full of nothing but takeout menus, whilst Emma sat at the threshold to the kitchen and watched him intently. He slammed the drawer closed and looked over to her wolf form as he sighed, her ears stiffening to alert when he did so.

“We could go shopping?” he offered and Emma gave him a disgruntled whine. “Of course,” he agreed in realistation. She wouldn’t be able to go inside with him but the idea of a huge, wolf like dog creature accompanying him to the local store was tickling him. “You could sit outside and wait?” he suggested and Emma leapt to her feet, growling low in protest of his idea. “Come on,” he coaxed, stepping towards her. “I’ll be quick. In and out. We won’t be gone long.”

Killian’s playful grin had Emma barking at him, her deep, canine boom telling him in no uncertain terms how she hated his idea already. She spun in a circle, tail swishing over the length of her spine, jaws agape as she panted at him with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe not for you,” he shrugged, answering her question without falter. “But I’ll be having fun.”

Emma barked again, a grumbling growl following her bay. Killian moved in front of her, sinking to his knee and ruffling his hands through the ruff of fur around her neck. She licked her lips, avoiding his eye contact as he tried to hold her gaze. Her green eyes shone so vibrantly in her wolf form that he was lost for a second, simply staring into her almond shaped eyes. Emma gruffly wiggled from his grasp again, her annoyance very telling as she hopped out of his reach.

“Okay, I’ll go alone,” Killian told her, relenting to her reluctance.

Emma barked at him again, her tone more high pitched and desperate. She didn’t stop, her squeaky yapping like that of a much smaller animal. Killian looked at her and sighed, planting his hands on his hips and his brow knitting together in confusion when she finally stopped and sat down in front of him once more and began pawing at his knee over and over.

“Alright, alright, I won’t go alone.” Emma stopped her clawing, huge paw resting on his knee, tilting her head to one side again, her tail halting it's waving over her back. “You can be my protection,” he smiled at her, watching her jump to her feet and spin on the spot excitedly.

Emma took off towards the door like a domestic dog about to go for a walk, nudging the door handle with her nose and looking back to the man following her. Killian stopped by the couch to pull on his boots, still sitting at the side of the furniture where he had discarded them, and listened to Emma’s whine by the exit. She lifted a leg and began clawing at the door, finally lifting herself onto her hind legs and pounding the door handle with an onslaught of powerful hits.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Killian teased as he reached the door and she stopped, dropping to all fours and giving him a cheeky, wolfish grin. He looked at the claw marks in the door, clearly freshly made, and winced, smoothing his hand over the gouge marks with a chuckle. Liam was going to kill him. “I’m sure he won’t even notice,” he shrugged, pulling the door open and letting Emma rush past him out of the loft.

\--

Emma had never walked down the street as a wolf before, let alone in broad daylight. She stuck to Killian’s side, her shoulders brushing his thigh each time he put one foot in front of the other, her tongue lolling out to one side. There were humans everywhere, more than she had anticipated, and she kept a close eye on everyone as they passed. Not that she really had to. They all seemed very interested in the handsome man walking his overly large shepherd like dog.

When they reached the store on the corner, less than two blocks from Liam’s loft, a familiar face appeared in front of them. It was a woman; Emma recognised her from when she had passed them on the other side of the street, who had taken it upon herself to drag her near elderly mother and her small, inquisitive child over to their side of the street. She was older than Killian but it clearly didn’t bother her as she made her way towards them, having already double back on herself to get another look at Killian.

Emma emitted a low growl and Killian turned instantly, first in anticipation of finding a Neverland wolf, but then calming when he noticed it was just a threesome of human females, Emma’s growl one of jealousy. He smirked, straightening his back and tucking one hand into his pocket as the other caressed Emma’s skull, his fingers kneading her head gently.

“Easy,” he teased and Emma looked up to give him a deadpan stare. He was faking a smile, a very human trait, and as they came closer, the high pitched squeal of the small child, no older than about six, pierced through Emma’s ears.

“OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THE DOG!” She screeched, tugging her mother’s hand towards Emma.

“Now, honey, that’s not how you approach a dog,” the grandmother said, giving Emma a wary glance. She looked her over, peering through the glasses balanced on the end of her nose. “Especially one so big,” she commented idly, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry,” the mother apologised to Killian, suddenly forgetting she should be watching her child and letting the girls hand slip from hers. She changed her body language instantly, leaning casually on one hip, tossing her curled, brown hair over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “She saw your dog and wanted to come and say hi. I hope that is okay?” She wondered out loud.

“Of course,” Killian smiled, scratching behind Emma’s ear with a single finger. She looked up to him and huffed a breath, sitting down on the blazing hot pavement and beginning to pant. “She’s very friendly.”

“What’s her name?” The little girl asked quickly, her face inches from Emma’s as she studied the ‘big dog’ in front of her, a little reluctant to actually get too close.

“Emma,” Killian said sweetly, and Emma tilted her head to give him another look. The bastard was enjoying this.

“Aww, that’s adorable,” the mother said again, not taking her eyes from the man in front of her. Emma watched as her gaze flickered up and down his torso, her bottom lip, bright pink from her lipstick almost too obvious as it rolled under her teeth.

“Isn’t she?” Killian looked down at his companion again, giving her a wink.

“What breed is she?” The grandmother asked suspiciously.

“A lupine hybrid,” Killian grinned. It wasn’t a lie.

“Like with a wolf?” The little girl took a step back, pulling her hands to her chest.

“Yeah, like a wolf,” Killian nodded.

“Is she dangerous?” the old lady questioned dubiously.

“Will she bite?” the little girl asked at the same time.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. The little girl watched in fascination as Killian leaned forward, rubbing his hands over the side of Emma’s massive head and smoothing his fingers down the side of her muzzle. He wrapped his fingers around her snout, tipping her head backwards and planting a very human kiss to her nose with an audible smack. “She’s a good girl,” he cooed, putting on a baby voice and crushing his lips to the side of her softly furred muzzle.

“Does she do any tricks?” The little girl asked quickly, her rapid fire questions starting to grate on Emma. She hoped, pleading with her eyes, that Killian would say no. As much fun as he was having, she was not, and her ears sagged a little on her head.

“Sweetie, of course she doesn’t,” the mother laughed, a fake chortle tumbling out of her throat in a high pitched screech. It was awful, the most painful sound Emma had ever heard, but her discomfort was short lived and replaced with jealousy when the mother casually laid her hand on Killian’s bicep. “Right, Mr…?” she prompted, feeling the curve of his muscle through his shirt.

His gaze dropped to the woman’s hand on his arm and he suddenly felt more than uncomfortable. He blushed, much to the mother’s amusement it seemed, and she gave him a hungry grin. Before he had time to respond, the woman was barged out of the way as Emma jumped up at Killian and protectively rested her paws on his shoulders. She wagged her tail, more for show, and Killian planted his hands on her ribcage, stroking them through her fur.

“See, even the dog thinks you’re a slut, Janice,” the grandmother quipped spitefully with a roll of her eyes.

“Mom!” she screeched, her cheeks pinking.

“Don’t worry, girl,” Killian said gently, stroking the sides of Emma’s face and ignoring the domestic squabble between the women. “I only have eyes for you.” Emma’s tail began another rhythmic wag and Killian smiled at her longingly. He knew she understood him, felt her heart as if it were his own, and he also understood her frustration with this situation. “In and out,” he told her softly, letting her push off his shoulders as she jumped down to the floor.

“Can I pet her?” the small girl said, looking up to Killian a little more confidently now that he had been so close to the huge dog’s mouth.

“Sure,” Killian smirked. “I’m just popping inside, but feel free.”

The small girl almost squealed with glee, her grandmother waiting with her as her mother stalked Killian into the store. The automatic doors slid open and a wave of cool air flooded out toward where Emma sat, her neck craning to watch her mate disappear around the corner with another woman.

Emma felt helpless. There could be anyone inside, and Killian could be in real danger without her, but to keep under the radar, she was relegated to acting the part of his pet in broad daylight. She hadn’t minded until the woman known as ‘Janice’ had put her hands on him, putting Emma in a positional dilemma. She couldn’t growl, the old lady already had her under a keen observation, clearly not buying Killian’s hybrid story.

“He won't be long,” the little girl assured her innocently. She patted Emma on the head hard, a little too hard, her stiffened hand smoothing the fur between Emma’s ears awkwardly. “Maybe he’ll get you a treat,” she smiled.

Emma whined, a canine reaction she couldn’t stop as she felt suddenly empty. Was this what it felt like to dogs when humans left their pets unattended? It was awful, the whole world disappearing from her mind. All she could focus on was Killian inside a store with a strange woman drooling over him like he were a piece of meat. God, she hated humans sometimes.

“Don’t cry,” the little girl soothed, her chubby little fingers sliding down to Emma’s neck. The girl was sweet, her chubby cheeks actually a little adorable and Emma took her eyes off the doors for a second to look at her. The girl seemed to like that and grinned back, a broad gap-toothed grin that would have had human Emma laughing joyfully. Her tail swished against the ground and she lifted her paw, offering it to the little girl who struggled to grab it with two hands. “A trick!” the little girl screamed at her grandmother who was busy chatting to another woman her own age. “She did a trick!”

“Yeah, honey, that’s great,” she droned, not turning around once.

Emma felt sorry for the girl. She was excited to find something she really had a passion for, in this case, dogs, and it seemed that no one in her life shared her enthusiasm. Emma wondered if she had a pet at home, but surmised most likely not. The little girl was dressed like a pageant contestant, wearing a little pink dress that was far too short for her, glittery shoes and her hair in tightly curled pigtails. She looked the epitome of uncomfortable and Emma, for a split second, understood her clear need to please her family at her own emotional expense.

The little girl dropped her head and Emma’s paw, unable to hold it up any longer, and Emma noticed immediately that her smile had faded away. Her hand found Emma’s fur again, tussling the hairs around her neck slowly, as if in thought, and Emma shifted her seated weight forward until she was almost touching the little girl’s face. The little girl looked at her, directly into Emma’s vibrant green eyes and without any prompting, launched at the canine before her.

Emma had never been hugged in wolf form by a human before, but she had heard that the human race found comfort in animals. Dogs especially were supposed to be relaxing, a good source of relief when feeling frustrated, and she had heard that studies showed that stroking a dog could lower a human’s blood pressure. Emma felt the little girl sigh, burying her face into the reddish hairs around Emma’s neck, clutching her pelt in her little fingers.

Just as the little girl and Emma parted, the automatic doors slid open and Killian walked out. He nudged his head sideways, motioning for Emma to follow him quickly and when she jumped to her feet, she noticed that there was no Janice in tow. Somehow, Kilian had managed to ditch the cougar of a woman somewhere in the store and had made a speedy exit after paying for his popcorn and an overly large dog bone.

Emma trotted alongside him, her gait quickened to match his strides, tongue lolling out of one side of her mouth. She looked up at him and he gave her a look of desperation, silently pleading her with his eyes to hurry away from the store as quickly as her legs would carry her. When they rounded the corner, into the shadow of the opposing building, Killian slowed a little and began to laugh.

“I know too much about Janice,” he laughed nervously, rolling his eyes at Emma. She barked playfully, bouncing beside him as he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get back to the loft, before she works out I’m gone.”

\--

Their walk home had been uneventful and even though the sight of a huge hound accompanying a handsome man was the stuff of many a women’s daydream, they made it back to Liam’s loft without further incident. Emma was relieved to get in the door, nudging it open with her snout and out of Killian’s hand as he clutched at the groceries that threatened to fall from his arms.

“Hey!” He scolded her lightly, catching the door before it hit the wall behind as it swung open. Liam was already going to be annoyed about the door, they didn’t need to add a hole in the wall to his list of things he was going to invoice them for. “Easy,” Killian said softly and Emma raised a wolf eyebrow in his direction, shaking dramatically. Tiny bits of broken fur danced around her, sinking down to the floor unnoticed.

He laughed, shutting the door behind him and making his way through to the kitchen area. He deposited the popcorn and unnecessarily large ham bone on the counter, smirking when he remembered what he had purchased. He held it up, the smell of oven baked jerky style meat filling his nostrils. Emma cocked her head sideways, giving him a knowing look.

“I had to buy something for you,” he sympathised, looking a bit sheepish. “Janice was adamant.” Emma groaned, her maw closing and her ears flopping sideways when she tilted her head in the other direction. “You’re right,” Killian agreed with her ‘really?’ stare, spinning on his heels and stepping on the pedal to Liam’s trash can. The lid flew open and he tossed the bone in the trash. “Bad form, but don’t worry, I got you popcorn too.”

The sound of rustling packets echoed through the loft as Killian made his way to the couch. He toed off his boots near to the couch, popcorn and beer in his hands and inched past Emma’s wolf form, sinking onto the couch cushions with a flop. He leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table between them and the TV, Liam’s modest wall mounted flat screen turning on with a buzz.

“So, I didn’t know if you’d want salt, sweet, or salt and sweet,” Killian said quickly, indicating each of the flavours of popcorn as he fell back into the cushions. Emma sniffed at each, not really knowing, pushing at the crunchy sounding bags with her nose. She gave him a trusting look, the warm green of her eyes something he could gaze upon all evening, and heaved a sigh. She didn’t know, having never tried anything but her mother’s simple buttered popcorn that she always found bland and tasteless. “That’s what I thought you’d say, so we’ll just try all three.”

Killian patted the couch cushion beside him and without hesitation, Emma jumped into the space. The previously semi solid block of foam gave under her weight, dipping the seat where her feet were and making the couch frame creak. Ignoring her attempts to get comfy beside him, Killian reached for one of the bags of popcorn, pulling the edges and enjoying the buttery smell as it burst open.

“Salt first,” he told her, diving his hand into the bag and pulling out a single piece of the popped corn. Emma had sat beside him by now, arranging her tail so it was beside her and not crushed at the back of the cushions, and she watched the yellow piece of corn come her way. Killian held it out to her as she sniffed at it, her nose twitching from side to side, licking it tentatively before she nibbled on the tiny piece comically.

Killian laughed at her antics, rolling the piece around in his fingertips. “You have to eat the whole thing,” he told her sweetly and Emma shook her head, snorting her disgust. “No? Not a fan of salt?” Killian arched his brow and Emma swiped at it, slapping her huge padded paw into his hand and sending the offending piece of popcorn flying to the floor. Killian laughed, bopping her nose playfully. “Let’s try sweet then. I know you have a sweet tooth, love.”

He rolled the top of the salted bag down, sealing it closed with the provided sticker. Then he reached for the next bag, the sweet one, and as he pulled the top edges apart, the smell of lightly roasted caramel and sugar filled their senses. Emma’s tail began a thumping motion against the couch in her excitement and Killian’s lips twitched into a coy smirk. “Careful, love,” he teased, using a crooked finger to tickle under her chin. “You’re drooling.”

Emma smacked her lips together, tongue swiping around her maw as if she had been denied food her entire life. It never ceased to fascinate Killian how, in wolf form, despite being mostly human, there were just some canine quirks and urges a werewolf could never hide. Emma flopped down onto her belly, her elbows sinking into the gap between the couch cushions and rested her head on Killian’s lap. He moved the bag, looking down at her pleading eyes.

“Oh, Emma,” he said with an accusatory tone. “Don’t look at me like that!” His voice was smooth, like he was talking to a child, and he all but begged her to stop her dejected dog routine. “Here,” he relented, stuffing a hand into the bag and pulling it out laden with the sweet treat. Emma jumped back up into a sit, a soft whine escaping her maw as she panted enthusiastically and waited for Killian’s hand to reach her face, already in love with sweet popcorn from the smell alone, but gobbling it down just to make sure.

“I think sweet popcorn is a winner,” Killian told her with a chuckle, Emma’s tongue swishing around her whiskers for any last trace of the sugary coating that may have stuck there.

The evening wore on, Killian in human form and Emma in wolf form, both of them enjoying each others company but the threat that loomed over Misthaven weighing heavy on both their minds. With Emma in wolf form, it made it easy for Killian to focus, strategize and make sure he was ready. There would be no room for error, during the battle or after, and should he survive the former, he was almost certain he would not survive the latter.

The TV flickered from the images alone, the sound shut completely off as he lay the length of the couch and stared blankly at the images in front of him. Emma was asleep, moulded to the contours of his body in her wolf guise, almost the same length as Killian was on the couch. She was heavy but he did not mind, enjoying the heft of her body as she gently snored. One of Killian’s hands was behind his head, propping it up further than the single pillow he was lying on would allow, and the other was idling in Emma’s fur.

Killian hadn’t even realised he was stroking Emma until she sighed in her sleep, letting out a groan. He watched her twitch, eyelids flickering under her eyelids and her lips curling into a snarl every so often. She huffed, blowing air out of the side of her lips with a puppy like squeak that made Killian wonder what she was dreaming of and if she was okay. He knew the dream world as a wolf was different to that of humans, mainly consisting of images of running and predatory behaviours, but he couldn’t help but ponder if the dream they shared was currently plaguing his love.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pulling her velvet soft ear through his fingers, stroking the extremity in a gentle motion. He repeated his action when Emma’s claws flexed into his shoulders, a sure sign she was distressed in her reverie. “Shh, Emma, I’m right here,” he whispered to her tenderly, lips almost touching her ear. Her fur tickled at his mouth and Emma let out an almighty sigh, stilling on his chest.

She stirred, not waking, but moved to nudge her snout further up under his chin. She curled her body in tighter, tucking her tail between her back legs and she did so with a stiffening stretch, relaxing back into her sleep a second later. Killian’s eyes fluttered closed, his eyelids heavy from lack of sleep and simply unable to stay awake any longer, he drifted off as well.

\--

The groan Emma emitted as she shifted back to her human form roused Killian from his sleep. The loft was pitch black, the TV long since having turned itself off, and there was no sound from the street outside. Not that he wouldn’t have heard the unmistakable sound of a shift, or even just Emma’s soft whimpers as she transformed back into a human, gloriously naked and still sprawled out over his chest.

It took him a few seconds to focus his watery gaze and when he did, Emma was staring back at him with a subtle pink tinge to her cheeks. Her chin rested on his chest, her golden hair like the paradox of sunshine at midnight tumbling down the sides of her head and framing her beautiful face. He gave her a welcoming smile, reassuring her instantly that her shift hadn’t hurt him in any way or embarrassed him.

“Hi,” she whispered softly, raking her hand through her hair and rolling the joints of her shoulders this way and then that until the bones cracked under her skin.

“Hey,” Killian whispered back and before he had time to do anything else, his hand had found the luxury of Emma’s skin, ghosting over her ribcage and coming to a rest on her hip. “I missed you,” he smirked. Emma was naked, and as much as he was trying, her scent was invasive and his body stirred to life at the exact moment his brain registered her aroma on his tongue.

“I’ve been right here,” Emma told him coyly, raising her eyebrow at him. She shifted her weight until she was sitting upright and across his hips, her hands planted firmly on his t-shirt clad chest, and the seam of his jeans rubbing against her bare sex. It made her nipples tighten into hard nubs on her perfectly shaped breasts and Killian couldn’t help but notice, biting his bottom lip.

“Not like this,” he declared, arousal clear in his voice. His eyes followed his hands as they skated over her skin, memorising every inch of her flesh like he might never see it again. The jutting of her hips caught his attention and he kneaded the slightly spongy skin there, his fingernails leaving light indents in her skin. “I like you like this.”

Emma laughed shyly, covering herself with her arms, much to Killian’s disapproval. “How can you be so sweet and innocent one second, rubbing my ears until I fall asleep and then…”

“What, love?” Killian growled darkly, taking in the sight of her naked form once more when he pulled her arms away from her chest and he could see her nipples straining for his attentions. He grinned. “So horny?”

“Exactly,” Emma smirked.

“Wolf heat or not, you’re amazing, Emma. You do things to me,” Killian smirked, biting his tongue between his teeth and bouncing her on his lap. Emma let out a gasp, hands falling back onto his chest to balance herself and make sure she didn’t fall sideways off the couch.

“So I can feel,” Emma purred, leaning forward and almost whispering the words against his lips. Killian’s hands skimmed over her arms and Emma couldn’t help but caress his pointed ears, fascinated by their shape and tracing the outline with her fingertip. “But we shouldn’t,” she said with a sigh, sitting back upright and blowing out a frustrated breath.

“What?” Killian cried incredulously. “Why would you say that?” He knew why, but it didn’t stop him voicing his sexual frustrations. “I know you want it too,” he grinned, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked up at the naked woman on his lap, grinding herself against his jean clad length with the most salacious grin on her face he had ever seen. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, hands on her thighs where his fingertips were dancing over her skin.

“Oh, you’re not wrong,” Emma sighed, eyes fluttering closed when Killian’s hands skimmed up the inside of her thigh.

“You want me,” Killian droned seductively.

“I want you,” Emma sighed again, her fingers clutching at his shirt when his thumb brushed over the apex of her thighs and her clit began to throb. “I guess we need to pass the time somehow,” Emma whimpered, rolling her hips against Killian’s thumb.

Being in wolf form had been perfect, but had left both of them with so many pent up urges, that they didn’t even feel like themselves right now. They were slaves to their animal natures, Emma’s soft whimpers like music to Killian’s ears as he tortured her clit with the barest of touches.

“Is that a yes?” Killian teased, watching her face contort with pleasure as she slid her hands across the ridges of her ribs, almost, but not quite touching her own nipples. The sight of her touching herself was immense, something that made Killian grow even harder in his underwear, the fabric rubbing his engorged tip almost painfully.

“Fuck it,” Emma growled, slamming her hand into Killian’s chest. It took him by surprise and he pulled his hands from her sex. Emma balled the material of his t-shirt up in her fists and yanked hard, pulling him into an upright sit and crushed her lips to his. “Yes. That’s a yes,” Emma sighed against his open mouth, relaxing into his embrace when Killian wrapped his arms around her torso and his hands roamed her back.

Killian’s fingers dug into her shoulder blades, holding her to him and letting her rub herself against his length, her motions teasing him to the edge. His manhood ached, a deep, painful throb down in his abdomen, the thrill of Emma’s dominance something he would never tire of. As a male, he was inherently commanding, but damn if he didn’t like to be controlled by the she-wolf currently working herself into a frenzy.

“I love it when you’re in charge,” Killian panted, his hands skimming down her back and slipping between her cheeks. Emma gasped a little, lifting herself up so he could feel how wet she was. “So wet,” Killian growled, slipping his fingers through her folds from behind, teasing a finger over her opening as she ground her clit against his jeans. Their foreheads were touching, faces pressed together and Emma arched her chest into his, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing her begging nipples and her hands roughly clutching his sleep messed hair as she nodded.

Emma grinned slyly, licking his lips as she pulled her mouth from his. Killian chased after her mouth eagerly, but Emma grabbed his jaw and held him at bay. Her hooded stare flicked over his features, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed red. She just smirked, imagining his pretty lips between her legs, tongue ravaging her clit until she came.

“You want the bad wolf?” Emma purred seductively and Killian nodded his head in her hands.

“I want her,” he gulped, his erection painful in the confines of his jeans. Emma shifted her weight, well aware of the pain it would cause him, and Killian winced, groaning through gritted teeth.

Emma felt the muscles of his jaw tick under her fingertips and grinned. She reached down between their bodies, popping the button on Killian’s jeans in one deft move, relishing in the way he moaned in relief. “You think you can handle her again?” Emma ran her tongue along the seam of his bottom lip, nibbling the plump flesh between her teeth and biting down, gently tugging his lip before sucking the pain away. Killian ground out another wrecked groan and shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed as he focused all of his energy on not coming in his pants. “Do you?” Emma repeated her question, lightly slapping his face.

Emma got her answer, but it wasn’t in words. Killian gathered her up in his arms, his biceps straining under his shirt as he pushed himself to his feet and Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching the back of his head for balance. It was pitch black in the loft but Killian could see, they both could, and he expertly made his way through the gauntlet of furniture towards Liam’s bedroom.

Emma giggled in his arms, finding his mouth once more and teasing his tongue with hers as she kissed him, hard. Killian made the bed just in time, losing his grip on Emma’s poker hot skin and throwing her onto the mattress. She squealed excitedly, clawing her way towards the headboard and biting her finger, teasing the tip of it around her lips as she gave Killian a salacious look.

“Looks like someone else’s bad wolf has come out to play,” Emma smirked sexily.

Killian growled, his eyes the darkest shade of grey-blue Emma had ever seen them. He shed his jeans quickly at the foot of the bed, stalking around the side and never taking his eyes off the prize in front of him. Emma smiled coyly, sucking the tip of her finger into her mouth and then scooting to the edge of the bed to greet Killian’s now rock hard erection, poking out proudly from under the edge of his t-shirt.

Killian threaded his hands into Emma’s hair, cradling the back of her skull in his hand and guiding himself into her mouth. There was no hesitation, Emma meeting him mid thrust with her tongue flat to the underside of his cock and her nimble fingers kneading the tightness in his balls. He sighed, knees shaking a little as Emma relaxed her throat, taking him to the very back of her mouth and swallowing around him.

Emma sucked his length, replacing her hot, wet mouth with her hand when she needed to breathe, stroking him languidly and teasing her palm over his sensitive tip. Killian brushed her hair back, holding it away from her face so he could watch her lathe his length with her tongue, lips forming a tight suction around him each time he disappeared into her mouth. His grip tightened on her hair and Emma smiled, feeling him harden even more when he hit the back of her throat and her gag reflex clamped around his tip.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pistoning his hips into her mouth even harder. He held her face in place, fucking her mouth with quick, shallow thrusts that dragged his tip along the ridges of the roof of her mouth and made her teeth lightly scrape his length. When Emma gagged, her body heaving forward and her fingernails digging into his thigh, he released her with a content grunt.

Emma pulled her head back, releasing him with a pop and Killian let his hold relax, looking down into her watery eyes in awe. “I thought you wanted the bad wolf?” Emma purred, licking the tip of her tongue along the underside of his head. His erection was so hard it was almost purple and if he didn’t come soon he thought he was going to explode.

Killian grabbed Emma’s ankle, swinging her body sideways so she was sprawled across the width of the bed on her front and her feet were touching his lightly haired thighs. Emma laughed excitedly, her skin buzzing in anticipation of his next move, tossing her hair over her shoulder and casting a glance his way. He took a hold of both of her feet, dragging her towards him a little more, his huge palm slapping the flesh of her behind hard.

Emma cried out on a gasping breath, her buttocks clenching and her grin widening. Killian’s hair had become a little damp from sweat and he struck Emma again in exactly the same place, delighting in the way she tensed away from him and a red, hand-shaped welt appeared on her creamy, white globe. Emma gave him a raised eyebrow, the apples of her cheeks almost touching her eyes as she smiled at him with a glint in her emerald greens.

“He’s already here,” Killian growled darkly, looking down at the thick length in his hand, the velvety skin shifting up and down as he stroked himself. “You want him?”

“Yes,” Emma whined, almost begging. She squeezed her thighs together for a little friction, thrusting her pelvis into a ripple in the duvet cover, anything to relieve the ache between her legs.

“You think you can handle him?” Killian teased idly, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a little silver foil packet. It was their last one and Killian silently thanked whoever was watching over them for making sure with all of their other escapades they hadn’t used them all.

Emma chuckled, his words an echo of hers earlier, their roles reversed but not for the worse. She raised herself up on all fours, shuffling to the edge of the bed as he sheathed himself in the latex condom, rubbing herself against the tightness of his balls playfully. Killian hissed at the searing hotness against his skin and began to ooze inside of the condom when he rubbed his length between the cheeks of Emma’s behind.

They were so worked up, wound so tightly, neither of them was going to last much longer. They were at the behest of their sexual desires, two wolves with nothing to lose but each other, and as Killian lined himself up and sank into Emma’s molten core, all of their roleplay faded away. There didn’t need to be an alpha in the bedroom. There was no need for dominance with them, just love, pure and simple, and their whole demeanour changed instantly.

“Turn over, love,” Killian insisted gently, helping Emma onto her back. She complied willingly, brushing the hair from her face and letting him pick her up and move her into the middle of the bed. They stayed intimately connected, Emma’s muscles gripping his length as they moved and Killian took a second to shed his shirt so that they were both naked.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked softly, gasping when he began to move inside of her again.

“Of course,” Killian assured her, wrapping her legs around his waist and making sure he was seated perfectly inside of her as he laid his body down over her own. “I just want to make love to you.” He had stilled, eyes flitting over her flustered features and he could feel the thrall of Emma’s arousal coursing through his senses, urging him to pound into her with abandon until he was lost forever, but he resisted, cock twitching inside of her as he awaited her response, fingertips brushing a stray strand of hair from her brow.

“No one has ever made love to me before,” Emma smiled, her hand finding the side of his face and cupping his cheek in her hand.

“Well, then, may I be the first?” Killian’s sudden nervousness made Emma blush, her sweet smile stretching from ear to ear on her face. She nodded, her voiceless reply prompting his long, slow movements, his hips rolling into her and teasing the bundle of nerves between her legs on each thrust.

There was almost no space between them, Emma’s breasts flattened by Killian’s bulk, his elbows beside her head and hands stroking through her hair lovingly. His lips found hers again and he kissed her, deep, deliberate swipes of his tongue that mirrored his hips, Emma’s tongue meeting his like the roll of her own hips. A sheen of sweat began to appear on their bodies and their heavy panting had turned the room humid, neither of them even realising.

Killian made sure to take his time, what little resolve he had left, and could feel every ripple and ridge inside Emma as he pulled out and then sank back into her warmth each time. She was wet, practically soaking the duvet where she lay and he glided in with ease each time. Emma whimpered at the peak of each of his thrusts, her moans gobbled up by his mouth on hers and without warning, stinging tears sprang from her eyelids and rolled down the side of her face.

Killian noticed her breath hitch but didn’t stop his ministrations, kissing her harder to reassure her that they would be okay. Neither of them knew what tomorrow was going to bring, or if Killian would still be alive by the week's end, so if this moment was all they had, they had to make it last. Killian’s thumb smoothed over her cheek, wiping away her tears and he began doubling his efforts in chasing her orgasm, angling his hips just so when he heard her make the sound he had come to recognise as an indication of her impending release.

“Shhh, love, It’s going to be okay.” He rolled his hips harder, bumping her clit with his pubic bone, holding her legs to his hips when they began to shake. She was close. He could feel her muscles begin to pinch at his length, drawing his own climax from him, but he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to make love, show Emma that she was the most precious thing to him and that he had meant every single word he had said.

He would fight for her, for them, and he would give her forever. If they had that long.

Emma pulled her lips from his suddenly, her breathing too shallow and she clutched the back of his head, holding his damp forehead against hers as her body began to shudder beneath him. She locked her feet behind his back, getting the right angle that way, her muscles fluttering inside of her as Killian’s girth coaxed her release from her with each thrust.

“Come for me, Emma,” Killian begged, his words nothing more than a whispered breath in her ear. “Let me feel you fall.” His beard tickled her chin as he kissed her again, needing to feel her lips on his before he fell with her.

With a stuttering moan, Emma went rigid, her orgasm ripping through every cell in her body like nothing she had ever felt before. It was different, not as intense, but no less pleasurable that any release she had experienced before. She went deaf, all sound replaced with a low frequency buzz and she felt Killian jerk his hips sporadically, his own climax following seconds after hers.

When the tingle of her euphoria ebbed away and her hearing returned, Killian was kissing her collarbone and holding her as closely as he could without crushing her. Emma’s hands skimmed over the expanse of his back, his muscles rippling under her touch, the charm necklace he wore stuck between their bodies and unmoving when Emma’s fingers pulled the chain around his neck.

“I promise to always love you,” Killian panted against her skin between open mouthed kisses. “Nothing can make me stop.”

“Forever,” Emma breathed, fingers tickling the hair at the base of his neck.

“Forever,” Killian repeated, seizing her lips once more.


	21. Chapter 21

There was a storm when Emma awoke the next day, the grey skies stopping any light from penetrating the windows of Liam’s loft and the sound of hailstones bouncing off the panes of glass in each window. The room was dull, an invisible fog making every colour muted, which heightened the ambience of the storm raging outside. Emma’s eyeballs rolled under her lids, tiny white specks dancing around in the blackness, her brain trying to catch up to the sound she was hearing, processing each tap against the glass, one after another.

She shifted her weight, one leg rubbing against the hairy calf of the man who was asleep next to her, their legs entangled under the thin sheet that covered them as they lay awkwardly askew. They had spent most of the night making love, holding each other after each euphoric release that had left them both exhausted and wanting more. Neither had wanted to sleep, unable to accept the fact that they might be holding each other, feeling each other, for the last time. Neither had wanted to stop gazing upon the other.

Each moment was precious, the night turning into day quicker than they had realised. Emma swallowed a thick lump down her dry throat and curled her body closer to Killian’s, the warmth from his naked form enveloping her and making the hair under her hairline flush hotter than usual. Emma peeled one eye open, the smile on Killian’s face even in sleep, catching her eyes immediately as he slumbered on his front next to her, his face pressed into the pillow and Emma resting her head on his forearm.

His hair was a mess, likely from how many times she had raked her fingers across his scalp the night before and the ear she could see still bore the light bruising inflicted by her teeth when she had bit down on the tough, pointy flesh. Emma smirked, recalling the noises he had made, the way he had sighed her name time and time again like it was his last earthly breath, and her name was all he could say. 

The gentle rise and fall of his lungs made his muscles ripple across his back, a soft rumble vibrating in the back of his throat as he exhaled into the pillowcase. There was a slight flush in his cheeks, still, and Emma couldn’t help but reach over and push a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Killian’s nose wrinkled but he stayed asleep, his lips sucking in as he heaved a sigh and relaxed back into his dream state.

Not even the rumble of thunder outside woke him, and when a flash of lightning illuminated his face, it caused no stir. Emma smirked, watching him sleep and getting lost in his visage, each feature of his face as enticing as the last. Emma couldn’t help herself and let her hand slip along the side of his face, her thumb gently caressing the raised, reddened scar on his cheek so softly he probably couldn't feel it.

Emma knew Killian had fought to get to where he was. A mongrel life would not have been easy, especially if he had crossed paths with other wolves along the way, and it warmed her heart to know that he would fight for her. Emma knew he had fought Walsh at least once before, and an unsettled pang dug itself into her gut as she recalled the horrific sounds he had made when he had been tortured. Forcing a change as Walsh had was barbaric, the stuff of nightmares, and Walsh would pay for what he had done. 

Emma let her hand skim down Killian’s neck, the slow pulse there thrumming against her fingertip as she brushed over the new scars under his jawline. She traced the curve of his shoulder, outlining it with her palm, before pushing herself into a sitting position and watching the movement of her hand as it explored his trunk. Emma had never really looked at Killian’s back before now, unless in wolf form, and she gulped hard at the sight of it. He was littered with scars, most of them clearly from bites and scratches, the jagged edges always healing to leave a distinctly shaped scar she had seen many times before.

She tentatively brushed her fingers over the skin between the since healed wounds, skirting her fingertip over the bumpy flesh of each scar in case she woke him. He groaned a little in his sleep, his whole body vibrating with the sound, raspy and deep in his chest, and Emma noticed his brows furrow when she touched a particularly thick line of scar tissue towards his liver. A row of distinctive puncture holes had healed at his side, the arrangement of scars clearly a bite mark that gave Emma more questions than answers.

“Please,” Killian rasped suddenly and Emma pulled her hand away from his skin with a gasp. His eyes were still firmly closed, crinkling at the edges as he pinched them even more tightly closed, his lips parting slightly as his breath became shallow. He shifted his weight, rolling over onto his back in one fluid movement and letting his head flop to one side, facing away from her. Emma waited, holding her breath, but he was definitely still asleep.

The rain increased outside, crashing into the windows and making the room deafeningly loud. Streaks ran down the panes, flowing like tears along the edges of the frames and Emma had only looked away for a second when she heard Killian take a sharp intake of a catching breath. She looked back to his slumbering figure, new scars glowing a silvery white along his sides as he gasped for more shallow breaths.

“Don’t,” Killian stuttered weakly, his head twitching on the pillow and his hands closing around nothing, grasping out at anything he could. Emma leaned forward, planting her hand to his chest, the scars warming under her hand immediately and Killian’s body relaxing into her touch. He sighed, soothed but the sadness still etched on his face as Emma skimmed her hand across his torso and inspected the other half of the bite mark she could see.

Without warning, Killian’s arm shot up and he wrapped his hands around Emma’s arm in a crushing grip, the skin around her wrist turning white. She contained a cry, the silent sound of pain leaving her mouth in nothing more than a squeak and Killian held her hand in place, his jaw clenching in anger as he held her hand from his skin. Emma covered her mouth with her other hand, pinching her eyes closed and swallowing hard, before blinking back tears and peeling her eyes open to see Killian staring straight at her.

“Don’t,” he repeated, his glassy stare fixed on her and his voice laced with a pleading sorrow that broke Emma’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered quickly, tugging against his hold. Killian relaxed his grip and Emma’s hand immediately went to his face, soothing his panic inducing nightmare that had clearly tumbled over into reality when she had touched his scar. It meant something, she could tell, and when she saw his expression soften, she gave him a warm smile.

“Emma, I-,” Killian began sheepishly, licking his lips nervously and blinking himself awake. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He worried quickly, eyes flickering over her arm.

“It’s okay,” Emma told him softly, her thumb caressing his cheek in smooth, rhythmic strokes. It wasn’t much, it was just two little words and a few light touches, but they both felt like it meant so much more at that moment. Finally, Killian’s lips twitched into a shy smile. “Want to talk about it?” Emma cocked her head sideways, her hair falling to cover her knees.

Killian shook his head and found her hand with his, turning it upside down and turning his face to kiss her palm. Emma felt a tingle shoot through her arm right down to the pit of her stomach, the supple, kiss bruised flesh of Killian’s lips setting her skin on fire instantly. When he was done, he pulled her sideways and Emma followed his lead, settling herself across his torso and letting the sheet fall from her naked body.

“Was it a nightmare?” Emma asked him, shuffling her weight until she was practically sitting across his chest, legs tucked up under his armpits and her hands finding the length of his beard. Her digits smoothed through the growth, each twisted, coarse hair tickling her fingers and Killian humming in appreciation of her touch.

“Nothing to worry about,” he assured her, letting his eyes fall closed as Emma scratched through his facial hair. “Just one from a long time ago.”

“You’ve had it before?” Emma asked softly, feeling Killian’s skin tighten under her assault.

Killian nodded limply. “An old childhood trauma, that’s all.”

“Like my shifting accident in the lake?” Emma smirked, feeling much more at ease about telling her story. She knew Killian would never keep anything from her, but she also recognised his reluctance to relive the memory in his own mind. He wasn’t hiding things from her, he was just not ready to face it.

Her reference made Killian smile a toothy grin and his eyes reopened to meet hers. “Aye, something like that, love.” He said no more, and Emma understood.

“But you’re okay?” Emma asked softly. “Last question, I promise,” she giggled, flattening her body to his and kissing his cheek. Her hands held his head in place whilst her lips assaulted his face, exaggerated kiss sounds echoing into the room and drowning out the sound of the rain.

“I am now,” Killian smirked with a chuckle. His hand smoothed over her back, fingertips dancing over the ridge of her shoulder blades and over each bump on her spine. Emma sucked in a breath and Killian grinned against the side of her face when she buried her face in his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be so easily distracted, Mr Jones,” Emma cooed salaciously, the heat in her core beginning to burn at her insides. She was raw, still swollen from the night before, but she couldn’t help but want Killian, even with the day marking the end of her heat. She had felt it start to fade away during the night, her core temperature returning to normal and the slickness between her thighs less every time Killian had brushed her body in his sleep.

“You shouldn’t be so distracting, Miss Nolan,” Killian growled, planting his hands firmly on her bare behind and pulling her higher up his body. Emma squealed, unable to stop him as he caught one of her nipples in his mouth, making her arch her back towards him and dig her nails into the headboard. Killian sucked hard against the rosy flesh, pulling it into a stiff peak and humming against Emma’s skin, the twitch of his erection not going unnoticed below his waist. “Your heat is ending,” he said idly, dragging his tongue between the mounds that hung just in front of his face.

“You can smell that?” Emma blushed, sitting back to look down at him. Killian let her move, reluctant to let go of the globes of her ass, he held her so she had no choice but to arch her back away from him and rest her hands on his hip bones.

“Amongst other things.” Killian smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, pulling her even higher up his chest with little resistance until her thighs sat over his shoulders and her sex was almost touching his lips. He nuzzled her folds, inhaling her enticing scent that was a little more muted than it had been, but no less aromatic. Emma watched him, her breath catching in her throat and her heart pounding beneath her ribcage, the blood pounding in her ears and between her now open legs. 

Emma’s hand found his head and her fingers scrunched his hair, pulling gently with a sexual frustration she thought had left her. It seemed Killian could draw pleasure out of any part of her, at any time, and like an addict, she would gladly take her next fix. There was a pause, his eyes meeting hers, the blue that she had always found so warm and comforting long since replaced by a dark grey that rivalled the storm clouds above them.

“What are you waiting for?” Emma teased with a coy smile. She snaked her hand down the front of her own body, purposely brushing her nipples into much harder buds than before and settled her hand between her thighs. Killian watched her nimble fingers part her outer lips, the glistening treasure that lay beneath flooding his senses with the smell of her arousal. He nibbled his bottom lip and felt himself grow even harder at the sight before him. When he looked back up to her, swallowing hard, Emma smirked, rolling her own bottom lip between her teeth innocently. “Do you need an invitation?”

“Absolutely not.” Killian gave her a wicked grin, his lips barely moving before he closed the gap between his lips and Emma’s sex and pressed a kiss to her clit. Emma moaned instantly, her back curving and pushing her hips harder into his ministrations, the breath leaving her lungs on a heavy, relieved sigh. She hadn’t even known how wound up she was until she had opened her eyes and seen Killian beside her, the memories of the night before coming back to her in a flood of emotions.

Emma rolled her hips a little more, hissing through her teeth when a tingling sensation rippled through her lower abdomen. Killian flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes again, giving her a heavy lidded, sly smile as he tortured her clit with his tongue, circling the throbbing nub with just the tip of his talented muscle.

“Fuck, Killian,” Emma hissed, her cheeks tingling with a blush. She rolled her hips again, her free flowing juices coating Killian’s chin. He let out a breathy laugh at her state, swiping his tongue around her entrance and along the inside of her fleshy lips, teasing her with the prospect of tasting her more intimate areas. Emma groaned in frustration, glaring at the man between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian offered between licks, Emma’s arousal coating his tongue and sliding pleasantly down his throat when he swallowed. “You just taste so-,” he began with a dreamy tone, but Emma’s hands pulling at his haircut him off. Killian stopped, wincing slightly at her sudden aggression and looked up her body once more.

“Touch yourself,” Emma commanded darkly. “Touch yourself and fuck me with your tongue.”

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Killian, more blood impossibly rushing to his rock hard erection at Emma’s words. He grabbed her behind again, holding her to his face as he plunged his tongue inside of her and let out a hum of appreciation at the taste that coated his mouth. Emma went heavy, leaning back on his chest, her entire body overcome with pleasure, each nerve ending firing at the same time and rendering her almost completely helpless. All she could do was cry out, his name on her lips like a prayer, her nails digging into where her hand lay flat on his torso behind her.

When he was happy with the agonizing rhythm he was setting, Killian slipped his hand from her fleshy globes and slid it down his own body and took himself in hand. He was like marble, solid and heavy in his hand, a light drizzle of pre-cum already having oozed onto the thatch of hair covering his stomach. Emma ground down on his tongue, riding his face wantonly and Killian increased the speed of his masturbation when Emma began tugging at her nipples.

The sound of the rain blended into the sound of blood in her ears as Emma felt the coil in the belly begin to tighten, her inner muscles flexing against Killian’s tongue each time he was inside of her and her clit begging for his attention when he was not. Killian lathed her nub, gently scraping his teeth over the ultra sensitive bud with a cruel smirk, watching the way Emma’s face contorted with her impending orgasm.

“Are you going to come on my face?” Killian growled as he took a breath, thrusting his hips up into his hand, his velvety soft skin shifting over his erection and building his own release low in his belly.

“Fuck, yes,” Emma hissed, throwing her head back.

“Am I going to make you come hard, love?” Killian was almost shaking underneath her, his words earning him a whine from the goddess currently straddling his face. He focused on her clit where he knew Emma had been building the most powerful orgasm, the steady throb of blood to the nub so obvious, he had felt it on his lips each time he gave it a gentle kiss.

“God, yes,” Emma cried with a pained sound. She was so close her thighs had begun to quake and her breathing had slowed to a pant, a heat creeping up her spine. “So hard. Killian, don’t stop, right there.”

“Like this?” Killian purred, increasing his speed over the hardened nub.

“There!” Emma gasped, looking back down between her thighs. She felt a rush of arousal at seeing Killian eating her out, his eyes pinched closed in his own pleasure and his hand furiously pounding his length behind her, and without warning, her orgasm hit her suddenly. She squeaked, covering her mouth quickly and she began to shake through Killian’s licking, each flick of his tongue like a new kind of torture against her clit.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Killian sat up, and in one swift move she was sliding down his torso and being impaled on his hot, hard length. She cried out, the sudden intrusion of his girth heightening her already fluttering orgasm to a new level, the spots behind her eyes never ceasing as she bumped her clit on his pubic bone and came again. 

“My, my,” Killian teased darkly, watching her face contort and her eyes roll back in her head. She was a blubbering mess, in a daze from back to back orgasms that had left her incoherent and limp in his arms, weakly grinding herself against him to extend her pleasure with a whimpering groan. “Such a wanton thing.”

“Don’t fucking tease me,” Emma panted, her forehead sticky with sweat. She rocked her hips harder, desperately needing him to move inside of her, anything, the lack of friction too frustrating to bear. “Please.”

Killian was close too, his own orgasm slowly being coaxed out by the ripple of Emma’s muscles and the sopping wetness that had dribbled out as she came, whimpering her pleas. It had been too long, their need to use protection now extinct because Emma’s heat was over, and Killian’s couldn’t wait one more second to feel her wet, slick heat around his unsheathed length. He smoothed his hands through her hair, brushing it from her flustered face and seized her lips in a ferocious kiss. All Emma could do was moan into his kiss, begging against his mouth to stop in almost a cry as his length rubbed a new pleasure point inside of her.

“Killian, please,” Emma whimpered, her body teetering on the edge of euphoria again, her entire being shaking in his lap.

“I’ve missed this feeling,” Killian panted, kissing her eyelids. “I can’t take those blasted condoms any more.” Killian smirked wickedly, the sweat along his brow running down his temple as he slowed his assault and let her still on top of him. Emma whined, but she was glad for the respite, her nipples like pebbles against Killian’s chest as she sagged into his arms.

“No more,” Emma sighed in agreement, her chest heaving for breath and her insides throbbing painfully. “God, you’re amazing,” Emma panted, the fluttering sensation between her thighs begging for him to move again. Killian let out a breathy laugh, kissing the underside of her jaw in a hungry, open mouthed kiss.

“You’ve got one more in you, love,” Killian purred. “I can feel it.” 

“Please,” Emma gave him a salacious smile and a raise of her eyebrow, carding her fingers through his hair. “Make me come.”

“Aye,” Killed panted, his cock twitching inside of her. “I think,” he said smoothly, plucking her arms from where they rested on his shoulders and gently moving them behind her back. Emma gave him a broad grin, her excitement intensifying as she complied, crossing her wrists over each other behind her back and letting him gather them up in his hands. “Slow and shallow should do the trick.”

In a sitting position, Killian could only thrust shallowly, but he rolled his hips against the mattress to make sure to cause enough friction against every detail of Emma’s inner core. Her eyes rolled back in her head again, the sheen of sweat over her body beginning to cool her in the chill of their room, and she ground her clit down against his body on each thrust. 

It was agony, a delicious torture that only Killian could provide, but he was right. She had one more in her and when Killian felt her tell tale pull at his length and heard Emma’s breath hitch in her throat, he knew he would come too. Seeing Emma come undone was one of the most erotic things for him and he loved the way she chased after every last drop of her pleasure. With a grunt he came at the same time she did, pulling hard on her wrists to keep her body still as he emptied himself inside of her with a few short, hard thrusts.

Emma finally wiggled her arms free when she felt him relax, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing his mouth awkwardly, most of her attention at the corner of his smile as he wrapped her up in his arms protectively. He gave her a squeeze, his muscles bulging against her skin as he kissed her back, lips smacking and lingering against each other as the storm continued outside.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” Killian promised softly, his words a breath against the skin of Emma’s bosom. He had shifted their position and they were now laying back in bed, his head resting sleepily against her chest, her fingers stroking through his sleep and sex messed hair in a slow, soothing motion. Emma kicked out the sheet that was wedged beneath them and shook it loose, letting it flutter to cover them both once more.

“I know,” Emma said with a nod and a hint of sadness. She didn’t know what returning home would bring, no one would, and the longer they waited the more anxiety built up inside both of them.

Killian brushed his thumb over her ribcage, staring at the wall beside the bed. “I wish I could tell you what the dream means. The longer I don’t know, the more I’m starting to think that the headstone is for me.”

“Don’t say that.” Emma stopped her stroking and let him tilt his head up to look at her. She caressed his cheek, her heart cracking in her chest at the sorrow she saw in his eyes. “And the other is not me,” she told him firmly. “So you can stop thinking that right now.”

Killian gave her a warm smile. “How do you know me so well?” He teased, echoing her question from a while ago.

“Fate,” Emma told him firmly. “And that can be changed, so even if the names are ours, we’ll make sure they don’t become our reality.”

The smile that Emma gave him was weak, partly forced, but genuine all the same. She leaned forward, cupping Killian’s cheek in her palm as she kissed him, his hands still against the sides of her body. His touch was electrifying on her skin and Emma felt the skin around her nipples prickle again, her lips curving into a smirk against his when Killian’s hand slid to the pebbled nub.

“Fate has other ideas for us right now,” he growled, pulling his lips from hers and giving her one last dark, lust filled stare before taking the bud in his mouth and rolling his tongue over Emma’s nipple. She arched her back instinctively, watching him suckle her breasts like a hungry babe, a groan tumbling from his lips as he shifted his weight to accommodate his now growing erection.

“Killian!” The room’s ambience was shattered instantly as the door flew open and Liam barged over the threshold, unable to stop himself from looking directly at his younger brother and Emma’s breasts. “Oh, shit!” he screeched, quickly turning away from the scene before him, pinching his eyes closed and trying to erase the images from his mind.

“Bloody Hell, Liam!” Killian spat, annoyed. He hastily covered Emma with his body, tugging the sheet up higher over his shoulders so she could hide in the darkness it cast over them. 

“I am so sorry, lass,” Liam stammered to Emma, rubbing his temples nervously.

“It’s okay, really,” Emma assured him from under his brother, stifling her laugh against Killian’s forearm beside her head.

“What do you want? We’re busy.” Killian ground out through clenched teeth, Emma’s slender figure writhing against his length beneath him. She gave him a coy smirk that she knew Liam couldn't see, and proceeded to suck her finger salaciously.

“Might I remind you that is _my_ bed, Killian,” Liam countered angrily, waving his arm behind him towards the bed that he was one hundred percent sure he would have to now burn.

“Get to the point then,” Killian spat, mesmerized by Emma’s tongue as it licked up and down her finger tantalisingly slowly.

“Fine,” Liam grunted, bending over and hurriedly grabbing at Killian’s jeans. They had been his, borrowed after Killian’s clothing had shredded during his encounter with Walsh, but now he was sure he wouldn’t need them anymore. He tossed them at the bed, making sure the denim bundle hit Killian square in the back. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” Killian grumbled with a wince. Emma bit her bottom lip and he cocked his head to the side, begging her with a silent glare to relent her teasing. 

“I just got a call from Father,” Liam said hurriedly, retrieving a nearby shirt and throwing it at his brother.

“What did he say?” Killian’s cheeks went pale, even though he was leaning over Emma’s body, and she placed a palm to his cheek to help him remain calm. Any mention of his father sent him into a state but she could always keep him grounded.

“Just get dressed,” he said firmly. “I’ll tell you in the lounge.”

\--

Ten minutes later, Killian and Emma had joined Liam in the lounge. He avoided Emma’s gaze as they exited the bedroom, a pink tinge flushing his cheeks which made her lips twitch up into a knowing smirk. Emma was not embarrassed by her body, she never would be, but it seemed living in the fringes of werewolf society had given Liam a complex about seeing another person naked, especially a woman, in his bed, having her breast sucked by his brother. 

Liam cleared his throat, motioning for them to sit down on the couch. Killian sat down first, positioning himself sideways so that Emma had no choice but to slide into his lap, his strong arms wrapping themselves around her body and hugging her tightly, almost possessively. The mention of his father had triggered his need to hold on to the ones he loved, both Emma and Liam, and Killian would be lying if he wasn’t apprehensive about what Liam had to say.

“I’m sorry again,” Liam told Emma softly, rubbing his hands together to try and eradicate some of the sweat from his palms. Emma simply nodded at his apology, her arm looping around Killian’s neck and her hand flattening to his bare shoulder. He was in only his jeans and Emma had put on her bra and panties, deciding to dress in Killian’s tee because the smell was comforting.

“What did Father say?” Killian prodded impatiently, his bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor and his toes flexing against the grain of the wood. 

“Neverland is ready,” Liam said sadly, watching the floor between his feet. “Father says they have begun preparations for the attack.”

“So, it’s today?” Emma asked quickly, her fingers gently idling in the hair that grew on the back of Killian’s neck.

“Aye,” Liam nodded, lifting his gaze and looking between the both of them. “It seems that way.”

“Then we have to go,” Emma looked at Killian, the lump in her throat suddenly too hard to swallow comfortably. “My family could be in trouble.”

“I don’t like this,” Killian said concerned. “It feels like a trap.” His eyes met Liam’s across the low coffee table between them and he felt Emma’s hands still on his neck, the tension there clearly interrupting her lazy massage. He still didn’t know if he trusted his father, he barely knew the man, and he wasn’t sure he was willing to risk his or Emma’s life to find out if Brennan was telling the truth or leading them into a trap.

“Do you really think our father would lie to us?” Liam’s head flopped to one side, sympathetically pleading with Killian to trust him.

“I don’t know. Would he?” Killian asked his brother with a bite to his words.

“I think what Killian means,” Emma began, looking between the brothers, “is this information has been handed to us very conveniently.”

“Father said you wouldn’t trust him,” Liam scoffed, shaking his head.

“Would you?” Killian spat, raising his eyebrows at his brother. Emma could feel his rage bubbling beneath the surface, his leg muscles underneath her growing more tense by the second. His fist clenched where it rested on her naked thigh and she shot him a glance, flattening a placating hand to his hairy chest.

“Hey,” Emma said soothingly, drawing his attention to her face. He looked up and she gave him a warm, comforting smile, her fingers gently scratching through his chest hair. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and I wish more than anything that I had stayed in that alleyway to help you fight-,”

“They would have done worse to you,” Liam interrupted and Killian flashed him a dark stare.

“You’re right,” Emma nodded in agreement. “And I will live the rest of my life knowing that _you_ saved me.” She looked back to Killian who had dropped his head to watch his balled fist turning white on her lap. He flexed the muscles, watching his forearm ripple this way and that, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth. “I would give anything to trade places with you, to take away the nightmares,” Emma soothed softly, watching her hand as she ran her nimble fingers over Killian’s furrowed brow. “We can’t change what happened, but we can make them pay,” Emma said sadly, looking back to Liam who wished more than anything he could take away the pain his brother was feeling. 

Killian, despite putting on a strong facade, was still hurt, damaged by what Walsh had done to him in the forest and he had been letting his anxiety overshadow his ability to see clearly. Emma knew as well as Liam did that Killian would never fully heal unless he expressed his anger, and as much as she enjoyed his attentions, fucking and running through the forest was never going to fix the broken parts of his mind. Killian needed to face his abuser head on.

Killian needed closure. He needed revenge.

“Brother, I’m not asking you to trust him,” Liam began. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

Killian’s head snapped up to meet his brother’s and he gave him a confused look. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust that I know our father is telling the truth,” Liam said firmly. “Please.”

Emma’s hand found his face, cupping his jaw in her palm and chasing away the knot in his gut. He looked up to her beautiful face, the soft wisps of her golden hair sticking out in all directions, untamed but no less lovely, and she gave him a gentle smile. Her lips were soft and inviting, pink from slight bruising, and the serenity Killian felt was overwhelming. He let his head drop to her chest and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tenderly as she placed a soft kiss to the back of his head.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she told him compassionately as if she had forgotten Liam sitting opposite them. “I’m scared too.”

“I’m not scared of dying,” Killian said finally, lifting his head. He gave her one last fleeting glance that broke her heart in two before looking over to his brother. “I’m scared of losing myself.”

Liam knew exactly what Killian was talking about. The night they had fought Walsh might have been over a decade ago, but Liam would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he thought he might have taken a life. He was elated, a darkness rising to the surface behind his previously kind eyes and showing Liam the true nature of his wolf side. Killian was a fighter, his scar littered body attested to that, and Liam knew that it wouldn’t be long before Killian finally couldn’t hold back the canine urge to kill any longer.

“You won’t,” Liam told his brother firmly. “I swear it, brother.”

“He needs to pay,” Killian growled darkly. 

“And he will,” Emma chimed in softly, her hands running through Killian’s hair and bringing him back to the light. He looked up to her with an apologetic look, blinking away the darkness behind his blue eyes and feeling the warmth of her smile wash over him. “If he survives the attack, my father will make sure of it.”

Killian sobered a little at the mention of David Nolan, the Misthaven pack leader who had put a bounty on his head. He knew she was right. For what he had planned for his daughter, David would make sure Walsh suffered, but what would he do to a mongrel who had fallen in love with his daughter?

“I’ve called Graham,” Liam announced to both of them. “I am going to stay at the cabin with Ruby and Davin, just in case any Neverland wolves have followed their scent there. He is going to meet you at Misthaven.” Liam stood, flattening down the wrinkles in his shirt and heaving a sigh as he made his way around the coffee table. “Make sure you keep the Neverland wolves occupied at Misthaven. I’ll protect Ruby and the babe.” 

Killian helped Emma to stand and mirrored his brother, both of them facing each other and speaking with the unspoken bond that they had always had. They didn’t have to say anything; they just knew what the other was thinking. “Good luck,” Liam said, giving him a tight lipped smile and extending his hand to his brother.

Killian looked at Liam’s hand between them briefly, before taking his brother’s hand in his and holding on hard. He shook it once, his knuckles turning white, before yanking hard and pulling his brother into the tightest embrace they had ever had. Liam wrapped a strong arm around his brother, his hand finding the back of Killian’s head and holding him tightly, neither saying a word.

Liam was petrified of losing his brother but he had to stay strong. He was the older sibling and had always needed to carry the weight of sorrow. Killian was too fragile to cope with loss, but damn if he wasn’t the bravest wolf Liam had ever known. Liam knew what would happen if Killian were to lose Emma, he could see it now as clear as day, and he finally understood his brother’s need to protect her, even if it was from her own family and could mean his demise. He didn’t hate Emma at all. How could he? She was the light that drove away the darkness within his brother’s soul.

They parted, Killian hastily wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyelids during the embrace. Emma placed a hand to his back, just to let him know she was there, and that she always would be. 

“Good luck, Emma,” Liam told her with all of the sincerity he could muster. “Maybe when this is over, we can get to know each other a little better? I’d love to get to know the woman who has tamed my little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian huffed, feebly landing a punch on Liam’s arm.

“I’d like that,” Emma smiled warmly, lacing her fingers with Killian’s and resting her face to his bicep.

“Graham said he would be at Misthaven within two hours,” Liam told them quickly, checking the time of his watch. “That gives you guys a little over ninety minutes to prepare.”

“We’re ready,” Killian said firmly, looking down at the she-wolf beside him. Emma nodded, pressing her lips to his shoulder with a nod. “I’ll call you when it's over,” Killian promised his brother.

“Thank you,” Liam sighed, relief flowing from his every cell as he made his way towards the door of his apartment. He paused, hand on the door handle before turning back to the half naked couple in his lounge. He fixed his stare on Emma, licking his lips nervously. “Bring him back to me,” he said in a broken voice that cracked in his throat. Emma had no time to answer before Liam was gone, the faint echo of his footsteps as he made his way down the stairs the only sound in the loft.


	22. Chapter 22

Following the directions set out by the she-wolf in the passenger seat beside him, Killian tried to focus on the road in front of him. They had been driving for over an hour, the rain pounding against the windshield of the truck in a steady rhythm of thuds that echoed in the cab. Killian’s fingers gripped loosely at the nearly smooth wheel as he watched the wipers furiously clear the screen of the raindrops, the rattle of the engine and the whirr of the wiper motor the only sound between.

Emma was almost hunched in two, curled up on the passenger seat with her head resting against the cool glass of the window. Her arms were wrapped around herself, hands clutching her elbows tightly as she attempted to make herself as small as possible. She had ignored the seat belt light that flashed as they set off, the dim orange glow telling her something that she had already known. Killian knew better than to force her to belt up, instead offering her his jacket which she snuggled under appreciatively.

Killian reached up to scratch along the line of his jaw, fingers brushing through his longer than average beard and the rustling noise catching Emma’s attention. She rolled her head against the glass, looking over at him with a small smile and she inhaled the scent of him from his lightweight jacket as it moved with her and enveloped her in his smell. Killian gave her a quick sideways glance, dropping his hand from his beard and planting it firmly as close to her as he could. Almost touching her sock clad ankle, he proceeded to smooth his thumb over the jut of the bone there.

“You alright, love?” he asked gently, quickly flashing her a grin before returning his eyes to the road. “You’re very quiet.”

“Thinking,” Emma told him quickly, her legs stretching out towards him so that she could gain more of his touch through the fabric of her jeans. Killian smoothed his hand up her lower leg as if reading her mind, yearning for the same contact she did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Killian asked, the compassion in his voice almost breaking Emma’s heart.

Did she? Did she really want to talk about the fact the wolf she loved was driving to his death? And for her. Emma felt guilty about that fact; Killian had barely lived a life, and yet was willing to snuff it all out to make _her_ happy. To save her father, the wolf who would surely be the one wielding the final blow when the time came.

“Not really,” Emma shrugged, heaving a sigh.

“Excellent,” Killian smiled at her warmly. “Neither do I.” 

His hand found her ankle and pulled her towards him. Emma stretched her leg out over his lap in order to accommodate his touch. The truck was large enough that they could, the cab wide enough to seat at least three people, so Emma had no trouble relaxing back against the door and crossing her feet across his lap. Killian returned both hands to the wheel, content with the warmth of Emma’s legs across his lap for now.

“Have you heard anything from Graham?” Killian asked her without looking from the road. His voice was even and a little too business like for Emma’s liking.

“Will you hurt him?” Emma blurted out her thoughts suddenly, lifting her chin and staring at his profile, her voice small and fragile. Clearly her thoughts were running away with her and she had more on her mind than she was letting on.

Killian frowned and he lifted his foot off the accelerator pedal, letting the truck slow as he turned to her. “Graham?” He asked, confused. 

“My father,” Emma clarified for him, letting the jacket around her shoulders fall to her waist. It wasn't cold in the cab, it wasn’t even cold outside at this time of day. 

Killian felt the muscle in his jaw tick at the mere thought of Emma’s father. He had never met the wolf, but he had heard the stories. David Nolan was feared, community wide, and even in the world of mongrels, his name held a certain reputation. Liam was scared. Brennan was scared. Even Graham had given him the slightest look of apprehension when Killian had mentioned Misthaven. The truth was, he didn’t know how to answer Emma’s question apart from honestly.

“Emma, if I have to defend myself, I will.” Killian sucked in a breath, and noticed a stone gravel laden lay-by up ahead. He flicked the truck's turn signal on and moved across into the secluded area, the soft clicking the only sound in the cab and the orange glow of the bulb bouncing off the tree line. 

The truck stopped with a lurch and the automatic parking brake cutting in before the huge lump of metal had even stopped on the loose gravel covered ground. Killian turned to her, half twisting his body in the driver’s seat and cocking his head to one side.

“I know,” Emma agreed sadly.

“And if anyone so much as lays a finger on you-” Killian snapped his jaw closed, clenching it tightly. His fingers gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles turning white and the hair on the back of his neck rippling to attention with the mere thought of anyone hurting the wolf he loved. 

Emma moved to his side, the rumbling of the truck’s engine vibrating through her as she moved and pressed her body up against his side. She felt him relax when she threaded her fingers through his locks, stroking at the wisps of hair at the base of his skull. “They won’t,” Emma soothed in a whisper.

“I said I would fight for you,” Killian nodded, arching his neck into her touch. “To the-”

“Don’t say it,” Emma pleaded, pressing her finger to his lips. She shook her head and her messy sideways braid flopped around on her shoulder. “No one is dying.”

“Whilst I appreciate your optimism, what happened to the last mongrel your father encountered?” Killian reminded her. 

“He doesn’t know you are a mongrel,” Emma said blandly.

“Oh, I can only imagine his joy when he finds out,” Killian deadpanned.

A cold silence feel over the cab, the rumble of the engine the only sound they could hear. Emma was well aware of what her father did to mongrels, The Chronicle was clear on how, as an alpha, he should tackle such wolves, and David had killed his fair share. He was kind and he was loving when it came to being her father, but when it came to being Alpha, David was a different wolf entirely. Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what happened when the two halves of David were forced against each other.

“I won’t hurt him,” Killian said softly, breaking the silence. He let go of the steering wheel and fished under his jacket for her hand, taking the softness of her skin in his fingers and caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Emma watched his digit draw lazy lines across her skin, the electricity she felt humming just beneath the surface. “I promise, Emma. If it is me or him, I’ll surrender.”

Emma’s head snapped up and her eyes met his. They were the same green hued hazel he loved, but with a flicker of anger that made them seem a little lighter, like the tip of a dancing flame. “You will not,” she growled, her voice breaking a little in the back of her throat.

“Emma, I-” Killian began, but she cut him off with a huff.

“You will fight, and you will fight fair and bravely,” Emma said quickly, her voice almost hoarse in her throat, eyes stung with tears. “Prove to him that you will do anything to win my hand.”

“It won’t help, love.” Killian let his lips twitch into a small smile, looking down at how hard Emma was clutching onto his fingers, interlocked with hers. His heart ached more than he could tell her. David would never show him mercy, or kindness, whether he fought valiantly or surrendered on the spot. The divide between purebloods and mongrels was too wide and Killian wasn’t sure if he could close it alone.

“I love you,” he breathed, lifting their hands and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. He let his lips linger, the saltiness of her skin invading his nostrils as he inhaled her scent hungrily.

“Stop talking like you’re going to die,” Emma said sadly, shuffling even closer to him. She was almost in his lap and her hand found his face, cupping his cheek, her fingernails threading where his sideburns met his beard. “Nothing is going to tear us apart, Killian. Nothing, you hear me?”

Emma’s face was so close to his, Killian could feel her breath ghosting over his lips. Their foreheads were touching and each sighed, simply basking in the feel of the other. Killian’s hand found her face and he stroked his knuckles over the apple of her cheek, the corner of her mouth turning up at his touch when he smoothed his thumb over her lips there. Then he kissed her, one last glance at her smile before pressing his lips to hers, time frozen around them as Emma tilted her head for a better feel of his mouth on hers.

“What are we going to do?” Killian whispered as they broke apart, his eyes still pinched closed and the muscles in his jaw ticking with his frustration. “I wish I wasn’t-” He paused, heaving a sigh.

“What?” Emma pulled her face from his and smoothed her thumb over his cheek, the scar there slightly pink. 

“This,” he ground out, swallowing hard as he motioned up and down his own body. “Half a wolf.” He turned from her and stared blankly through the windshield.

“You’re not to me,” Emma told him softly. She planted her hand firmly on his face and turned his head back to hers, their eyes locking and his irritation fading away instantly. “You are more wolf than anyone I know.”

“It’s not enough!” Killian told her, slamming his hand on the center of the steering wheel so hard that he set off the horn. Emma jumped a little but wasn’t afraid of him, his outburst perfectly normal under the circumstances. “I want to be able to love you properly and not have to look over my shoulder in case your father has decided to send another wolf after me. I want to marry you and have pups, and I want you to be happy with me _and_ your family.” He took a breath, turning back to her with sorrowful eyes. “This can’t be it, Emma. Surely fate isn’t that cruel?”

Emma listened to him rant, the words spilling from his mouth and making her heart skip a beat in her chest. All of the hair along her arms stood to attention and she flushed hot, the sudden build up of saliva in her throat making it almost impossible to breathe. Killian’s eyes flicked over hers, desperation behind the cloudy blue hues as he searched for a resolution.

“Say something,” he pleaded, starting to panic when Emma seemed frozen on the spot.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said finally, hanging her head to hide her smirk.

“I’m sorry?” Killian asked confused.

Emma lifted her head and shook her hair out of habit, the sideways braid staying put on her shoulder. Killian’s brow knitted together waiting for her explanation and Emma simply gave him a coy smile.

“If that was your idea of a proposal, I’m saying no.” Her face erupted into a full blown grin, cheeks pressing her eyes almost completely closed as she saw the stress evaporate from Killian’s body. He matched her grin, his cheeks suddenly blushing to a deep red colour as he licked his lips nervously.

“Would you-” Killian began nervously.

“Oh my god!” Emma shrieked, balling a fist and punching him in the shoulder. Killian flinched dramatically, grabbing his arm before reaching across the cab and bundling her in his arms. Emma let out a squeak, only resisting his pull for a second before falling into his lap and rolling onto her back. “Do not propose to me!” She laughed, looking up at him with a grin.

“I wasn’t going to,” Killian said with a chuckle, holding her like an overgrown baby in his arms. Emma quirked a brow at him and toyed a finger through his lengthy facial hair.

“Oh, yeah?” she cooed. “Then what were you going to say?”

“Does it matter?” Killian blushed again, dipping his head to peck her on the brow.

“Stop trying to distract me with kisses,” Emma chastised, pushing his head away. “Tell me. What were you going to ask?”

Killian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. He looked down at the woman in his arms, awkwardly laying across his lap in the cab of a truck that he knew she had probably never looked after a day in its life. The engine practically screamed to be tinkered with and Killian had been agitated by its misfire for the whole journey, but it was of no importance. The only thing he cared about was Emma, and he didn’t even have to worry about the answer to his next words, because the smile she was sporting told him he had nothing to fear. 

“Would you-” he paused, sounding out the syllables to further extend her wait. His lips twitched into a wry smirk and he opened his mouth to speak again, closing it quickly.

“What have I told you about teasing me?” Emma gave him a look, her finger pointing up at him playfully. Killian nodded his agreement at her and continued.

“Would you say yes if I asked you to marry me? I’m not proposing, not here, not like this,” he said quickly, looking around the truck, seemingly abandoned by the misty roadside. “I just want everything with you, Emma. Marriage, pups, forever. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Pups?” Emma grinned up at him. She had never felt so full, so complete, like the final piece of a puzzle had been found and slotted into her life.

Killian met her grin with his own. “Everything.”

“Then yes, Killian Jones, I will marry you,” Emma smiled, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him soundly. It was soft, and warm, filled with love that she had only ever felt from him. “Whenever you want to ask me properly.”

Killian pulled her body tighter to his body, giving her a huge sideways hug as he leaned down, craning his neck to kiss her mouth once more. Emma’s hand found his face, holding onto him with the most delicate of touches that always managed to set his skin ablaze, whilst kissing him back tenderly. If they could have stayed together like that forever, it would have been perfect, but they both knew they couldn’t hide forever. 

Misthaven was not far away now.

\--

The soft wails of the newborn in the next room made Ruby panic. She had left Davin for just a few minutes, eager to wash her hair, but the sound of his newborn cries was enough to set her on edge. Her hair felt like greasy straw, dry and distressed from root to tip, and she had just popped to the bathroom to have a quick wash. Having a baby was exhausting but worrying about the absent father of your child was worse, playing on Ruby’s mind so much she had invited her friend Elsa to the cabin to help her get through taking care of her son.

Elsa was human and Ruby had worked with her for many years, both of the women forming a strong friendship from the day they had both arrived at veterinary school. Ruby was the more outgoing of the two, which suited Elsa’s shy nature perfectly. Friends tended to get along more when their personalities mirrored each other, and Ruby and Elsa were no different.

Elsa was the first friend she had told about Graham. Not everything, because although Ruby loved Elsa like a sister, she wasn’t sure she was willing to risk her reaction that the man she loved and was about to marry wasn’t actually a man at all. Not just yet. When Ruby had called and told Elsa that she had given birth early, Elsa was thrilled, offering to come and help. When her sister, Anna, had given birth, she was more than helpful, and as such demanded an audience with the newest man in Ruby’s life.

When Ruby heard the infant stop his fussing, soothed by the calming voice of her friend’s familiar voice, she relaxed a little. Her heart began beating again under the hand she had pressed to her chest and she let out the breath she had been holding. Elsa wouldn’t let her leave the bathroom unless she had washed her hair anyway, so she might as well get on with it.

When she stepped from the bathroom, the dusty hardwood floor of the cabin creaking slightly under her feet, Elsa looked up from the bundle in her arms. Davin was asleep again, gently sucking on his own tongue in lieu of his pacifier, hands clenched tightly to his body and his legs tucked up to his chest. His feet were crossed at the ankles, still having not fully gotten used to being able to stretch out.

“He’s so handsome,” Elsa whispered, looking back at the tot in her arms. She swayed gently from side to side and ignored the ache in her lower back as it protested the repetitive action.

“You should see his father,” Ruby grinned salaciously, rubbing her hair with a soft, fluffy towel. Else gave her a confused look and stopped her movement, an action that caused the baby in her arms to go rigid with a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’ve met Graham,” Elsa whispered with a frown.

“Who said Graham is the father?” Ruby grinned, giving her friend a wink. 

It was too long before Elsa realised her friend was mocking her and she let her shoulders sag with a cock of her head. Ruby stifled a laugh as she furiously rubbed at her hair, eager to get back to her newborn. Her breasts hurt, full and swollen to bursting, so she knew it would be feeding time soon. So far Davin had not been discreet in his need for food, the sounds he made when hungry making even her surprised at his lung capacity for such a small baby.

“He looks big for being born so early,” Elsa said idly, stroking her fingertips across Davin’s forehead. The tot wrinkled his brow a little, screwing up his already squished face in protest of her touch.

“They got my dates wrong,” Ruby lied casually. In reality, Davin had been born perfectly healthy and at a normal size for a human baby, just eight weeks early, but Ruby knew it was because he was actually half werewolf. Emma had told her these things happened.

“And what brings you out to Graham’s cabin so soon after he was born?” Elsa whispered, looking up to her friend again.

Ruby’s face paled and she stopped the combing action as she brushed her hair. “He was born here,” Ruby said quickly, gulping hard and disguising her shrug behind another long sweep of her dark brown locks. The brush caught on a knot or two and she winced, grabbing a bunch and pulling it free. “We had no time to get to the hospital.”

Elsa smiled warmly and Ruby almost felt guilty for lying to her friend when she realised Elsa had believed her. It was perfectly plausible. Elsa knew Graham and Ruby came up to the cabin a lot, to get away and be alone, so it wasn’t unlikely that Davin’s early arrival could have been triggered here. Ruby pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, twisted it into a bun and secured it on the back of her head.

“Graham has gone home to ready the nursery,” Ruby told her before Elsa had time to question his absence. “My friend Liam was coming up to help me with a few things, but he seemed to be running late.”

“Liam Jones?” Elsa’s interest was piqued, her brows raising on her forehead at the mention of Liam. She had met him once at one of Ruby’s birthday parties when he was there with his brother Killian, both of the men unbelievably attractive, but had been too shy to say anything to him other than a quick hello.

“Yes, Liam Jones,” Ruby teased, parroting her words. “You remember him, don’t you?” Ruby watched her friend squirm with a smirk. “He is coming to chop some firewood for the stove.” Elsa immediately blushed, the red in her cheeks contrasting her snowy blonde hair. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind seeing that, right?”

“What?” Elsa almost screeched before she remembered the sleeping baby in her arms. Ruby snorted a laugh, moving to her side and offering her arms out for her son. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ruby gave her a knowing look, relieving her of the baby. “Oh, nothing. Only I remember that party, the first time you saw him and Killian.” Ruby moved to the living room and Elsa followed, hot on her heels for any more information about the curly haired man who had smiled at her from across the room and made her heart flutter. “I have to be honest with you,” Ruby said with a grunt, ignoring the pain in between her legs as she lowered herself down onto the couch with Elsa’s help. “I thought you’d prefer Killian.”

Elsa lowered her friend down before slipping into the seat beside her. The couch was old and worn, the cushions barely able to support the weight of both of them anymore, and the two of them sank back into the lumpy seats without a complaint. “Killian was nice,” Elsa agreed amicably.

“But he wasn’t Liam, right?” Ruby said with a grin. “I remember the way he looked at you all night long, like a rare jewel.” Elsa dipped her head, a twitch of a smile playing across her lips as she tugging her feet up under herself. “Why didn’t you say anything to him?”

“I was nervous,” Elsa said with a hint of frustration. “Normally you are my wing woman, but you were way too drunk to even remember which Jones was which.” Ruby gave her a small smile, missing the best party of her life. Not that she remembered much of it, but it had been hard to forget the smile on Liam’s face at meeting Elsa because she had never seen him with such a boyish grin before.

“I remember enough,” Ruby protested weakly, wincing when another pang of dull pain shot through her womb area. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before, or since.”

“Really?” Elsa blushed.

“Really,” Ruby nodded, her hand lazily stroking the curvature of Davin’s spine.

“Has he mentioned me since?” Elsa prodded, watching her hand as she picked at a thread on the couch. Ruby laughed and shook her head a little at her friends lack of subtlety. 

“Liam is a very private person,” Ruby told her. “I’ve known him over half my life and there are things about him I still don’t know.”

“Oh,” Elsa said, her voice deflated. 

“But, I do know this,” Ruby told her. “That man has a wicked crush on you. He hasn’t so much as mentioned another woman since that party, and that was three years ago.” Ruby took a minute to think about it, and she was right. That night was the only time she had seen Liam smile the way he had, and she was sure if he wasn’t so preoccupied with keeping his drunken brother in check, then he would have most certainly said more than a quick hello to the woman currently blushing beside her. “You should talk to him,” Ruby urged. “He would like it.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Elsa laughed nervously but her smile faded and her eyes went wide with panic when the sound of three huge bangs on the wooden front door sounded through the cabin. 

“How about you answer the door for me, because you know, I just had a baby, and we start there?” Ruby smirked, biting her tongue and wiggling her eyebrows.

“What do I say?” Elsa leapt to her feet and three small knocks rang out in the cabin, probably from Liam tapping his knuckles against the wood when he remembered there was a baby inside.

“Start with hello,” Ruby told her friend with a laugh.

By the time she made it to the door, three more small taps had sounded across the room. Elsa took a deep breath, and then another, her hand shaking as it reached for the latch and lifted it from its position. The door swung open with a creak, the years of wear evident against the floor in a slight groove that it no longer scraped through. Liam was just about to knock again, hand poised mid air when all of the air in his lungs left his body at once and he froze.

Neither said a word, the silence between them not exactly awkward but there nonetheless. Liam couldn’t move, his mouth went dry and his eyes burned with the need to blink. Elsa was someone he had thought about since Ruby’s party three years ago, but there had always been something stopping him from talking to her. On the top of that list was the fact that she was human, a fact he could smell right as her adrenaline spiked through her blood, and made her scent even more heady than he remembered. The last woman Liam had loved was human, and he had lived with the regret of her death ever since, wishing things had always been different.

It seemed, however, fate had other things in store for him.

There was no denying the pull of attraction he felt towards Elsa at that exact moment. It had never waned in three years, and sometimes even woke him at night, but Liam was scared of even talking to the beauty in front of him in case Neverland got wind of her and decided to teach his father another lesson. This was the closest he had ever been to her physically, her scent even more overpowering than he could have ever imagined. The smell of crisp, clean spring water invaded his nostrils and even though he was sure it was from a detergent, he liked to think it was her skin. His ears registered no sound, even the thumping of his heart lost in the silence around him, like walking in a blizzard, the sound of silence was amplified by the presence of her.

He could tell she was nervous, the sweetness of the blood humming just under the surface of her skin calling to him like the moon during a change. She was perfect. Her hair was perfect, like the whitest sands of Caribbean islands, and her skin was perfect, so smooth that he almost wanted to reach out and caress it. Her lips were the lightest shade of pink he had ever seen and matched the colour in her cheeks at his presence and Liam let his eyes wander to them for a second.

Elsa was equally awestruck, mesmerized by everything about the man in front of her. Liam has dressed for his task of chopping wood it seemed, dark stonewash jeans and a rugged chequered shirt clinging to his body enticingly. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the black crossed lines mixing with the dark green background and drawing her gaze to his hairy forearms, and he had neglected to button it up all the way so a few of his chest hairs poked out of the open collar. He smelled like the ocean, a mixture of salt and bergamot, which Elsa wasn’t completely sure wasn’t from some kind of tea he consumed so much of it was oozing from him as he mirrored her panicked sweat.

“Good afternoon, miss,” Liam croaked finally, lowering his hand and swallowing hard.

“Oh God, you’re British,” Elsa whimpered, her thoughts escaping from her lips before she had time to stop them. Ruby had told her Liam and Killian were from England, but with the lack of talking to him at the party, and the sound of music drowning out everything she might have heard, Elsa had never heard his mother tongue until now. With a gasp she clamped her hand over her own mouth and gave him a wide eyed expression of shock.

“All my life,” Liam told her with a nervous smile. He looked down to his feet, shuffling them forward a little, kicking at a leaf that had fallen to the decked area between them.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said hurriedly, sliding her hand away from her mouth. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s quite alright,” Liam assured her with a caring nod. “Thanks for noticing,” he added lightly. “Lots of people think I am Australian.”

The conversation ended there, turning stale almost as soon as it had begun. Liam looked off to one side and Elsa blushed again, looking down at her feet. Her hand gripped the door tightly and she wished she had social skills of any kind to help her in the situation she had found herself in. She thought people were only stunned to silence in the movies, but it seemed no one was immune.

“Can we start again?” Liam asked suddenly and Elsa lifted her head to look at him. Before she even had time to reply he was turning and hopping down the three uneven wooden steps to the grass, before spinning on his heels and walking back up them a little more determined than before. Elsa watched him, fascinated and a little amused by his antics, a small smile creeping across her face.

Liam took a breath, tugging his shirt into position and hastily swiping his hand through his messy curls, brushing them aside so that he could take in the beauty in front of him more accurately. He gave her a boyish smile, the same one she had seen at the party, and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled made her wish she had been able to see them more often before now. Liam wiped his hand on his jeans to rid his palm of the sweat that had appeared with his nerves before extending it to her, trying his hardest to stop the shaking.

“Hi,” he said, a little more confidence in his tone that he thought possible. “Liam Jones, friend of Ruby,” he grinned playfully.

Elsa stifled a small giggle before reaching for his hand. The second her hand met his she felt a spark of electricity surge down her spine, her entire body brought to life by the simplest of touches, a animalistic need to never let him go clawing its way to the surface of her subconscious. When his fingers curled around her much smaller hand she lost her breath, jaw hanging slack as she stared into the depths of his cerulean eyes.

“Elsa Agnarrsen, also a friend of Ruby,” Elsa almost sang, the slight accent over her surname catching Liam’s attention.

“Agnarrsen?” He repeated back to her, screwing his face up as he attempted her lilt. “Excuse my abysmal attempt at an accent there, lass,” he chuckled. “But might I assume that’s Norwegian?”

Else smiled brightly and nodded. If anyone really looked at her blonde hair and the brightest glacier blue eyes you had ever seen, her surname made perfect sense. Her heritage was Scandinavian every single day of the week, child of Agnarr, and it was refreshing to meet someone who recognized it immediately.

“Yes,” she beamed joyfully, wondering how he knew.

“I thought so,” Liam said proudly. “I travel a lot, but forgive me again, you don’t sound very Scandinavian.” Liam was still holding onto Elsa’s hand but neither of them had made any attempt to part. Liam’s thumb stroked over the bump of her wrist bone, lazily drawing a line into her flesh that left Elsa with a burning sensation.

“My parents came here before I was born,” Elsa said. “But I travel home often. The Fjords are so beautiful.” She let her hand finally slip from his, tucking a wayward strand of her golden locks behind her ear. “Have you ever been?”

Liam withdrew his hand reluctantly, his hand balling into a fist in an attempt to retain the last remaining feel of her skin to his memory. “I have not,” he said almost sadly. “Despite being from England, I’m not much for the cold weather I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Elsa’s smile slipped from her face a little, the brightness in her eyes drifting away. “Maybe, you’d like to go one day?” She asked tentatively, the smile returning to her face when Liam gave her a shy smirk.

“Is that an invitation, lass?” His boyish grin was captivating and for a second Elsa wasn’t sure if she had really just invited a man she had never really spoken to until five minutes ago, to her homeland. That hadn’t even been on a date yet. “Tell you what,” Liam said, stepping forward so that the gap between them was even smaller. Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat, her eyes searching his face for his intentions. Liam licked his lips nervously, the heat from her body radiating into his own. “I’ll visit the Fjords, if you visit England.”

Elsa relaxed a little and blinked up at him coyly. “Is that an invitation?”

“Maybe,” Liam shrugged, itching to touch her face where anther strand of her sunshine locks had escaped her braid. “I warn you though, it can get quite cold in the winter,” he chuckled.

Elsa laughed, hard, her voice high pitched and her head lurched forward so far that she almost headbutted him. Liam grinned with glee, captivated by the beauty in front of him who, despite his terrible delivery, had managed to find his joke humorous. When she caught her breath again, Elsa shook her braid and looked up to him, her nose almost bumping into his.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, her eyes flickering between the darkened blue of his own and his thin, pink lips. “The cold never bothered me anyway.”

\--

The rain had stopped by the time Emma and Killian pulled up to the gates of Misthaven, a thin layer of fog hanging heavy in the air from the low clouds that had descended across the grounds. Emma spied Graham’s truck in the driveway and it made her feel a little more settled, but she still couldn’t help but feel like throwing up at any second. Wolves were not normally this anxious about anything, but as soon as the truck had passed through the huge wrought iron gate of her childhood home, Emma had felt sick.

“Easy, love,” Killian soothed, leaning over the steering wheel to take in the huge, imposing manor house. He didn’t exactly believe his own words, his jaw hanging agape at the sight of the huge, stone clad house before him.

He had never seen anything as impressive as the house before. The stonework was pristine, well maintained and an almost white colour. A huge ivy plant grew up one side, probably as old as the house, covering nearly a quarter of the house in lush, evergreen leaves, the foliage trimmed around the windows. Two huge stone wolves sat on either side of the huge doorway, steps leading up to a porch that was overshadowed by a huge overhead balcony.

“Home sweet home,” Emma droned. Killian pulled up next to Graham’s truck and put it in park, letting the engine die with a chugging sound as he turned the ignition off. Before either had time to say anything, Graham appeared in the doorway, alone but no less imposing then he needed to seem in that exact moment.

“It will be alright,” Killian told her again, finally looking over to her and offering a small smile. He reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. “I’m right here.”

Emma gulped hard when she saw her father appear next to Graham in the doorway, no sign of her mother as to be expected. Graham would have no doubt already warned her father of the impending attack, and as a result Snow would have been squirreled away somewhere safe. Misthaven had a panic room, nestled in the back of the kitchen area, hidden behind the pantry and Snow would have already been taken there. Knowing her mother, it would have been under duress, but that wasn’t what bothered Emma right now.

“We have to get out of the truck, love,” Killian said softly, giving her hand a tug. 

“He looks angry,” Emma gulped, eyes fixed on her father. David stood with his arms folded over his chest, dark eyes fixed on the wolf beside her. Mongrel. David would never see Killian as anything but a half breed, would never refer to him as a wolf, and for a second she considered telling Killian to throw the truck into drive and fleeing forever. Only she knew it would never work.

David Nolan wasn’t Alpha for nothing.

Graham had warned David that Emma was bringing a wolf to Misthaven, the wolf she had been running with, but it was for a very good reason. David had agreed to an amicable meet, but even Graham knew that many of those had ended in violence in the past. If David felt threatened, or thought that his family was in danger before Neverland wolves even set foot on the property, he would not hesitate to cut Killian down with or without consideration for his daughter’s feelings.

Before she knew what was happening, Killian was pulling her from the truck and slamming the door closed behind her. Emma had been so focused on her father she had not even registered her own body moving across the seat, standing next to Killian on the gravel, finally within smelling distance of her father. David had already tilted his head, casually taking in the scent of the newcomer at his daughter’s side and lowering his head with a grunt before disappearing back inside the house.

“So far so good,” Killian said nervously. 

“That’s what worries me,” Emma sighed, forcing one foot in front of the other as she approached the porch. Killian followed her, choosing not to disrespect her father any more by flaunting their romance by holding her hand, or holding her close. There would be plenty of time for that later, but now, he had to make David see reason.

“Graham,” Emma huffed, greeting her beta in their prearranged manner. They had all agreed it would be much safer for everyone if, for now, they kept what had happened over the last week or so a secret. No mention of Ruby. Absolutely none of Davin. And Emma had requested Graham not tell her father about Killian’s lineage, at least not until he had told him about his human fiancée.

“Emma,” Graham grunted back, shooting Killian a quick glance as Emma slipped by him and into the lobby of the huge house. The grandfather clock still ticked, like nothing of significance was happening today, counting away the moments in its usual manner. 

“Mate,” Killian greeted nervously, giving Graham a nod. It was so strange to pretend to not know him, but Killian trusted that Emma knew her father better than anyone.

“Any weapons?” Graham asked him, his voice all business and aggression. Killian shook his head, holding out his arms for Graham who patted him down quickly. He knew Killian would not be so foolish, but he had to check for the sake of his reputation. “Don’t look him in the eye,” Graham warned him quietly, patting Killian a little harder over his shoulders to disguise his words in the slapping sound. “Let Emma do the talking unless addressed directly.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded in agreement. He straightened up his shirt, taking a huge breath as Graham closed the huge, double doors on the manor house with a thundering bang and directed him into the lounge area where Emma was waiting with her father.

David turned to face the two men as they entered, Killian in front and Graham bringing up the rear. The room was dark, curtains drawn and the dim orange glow from a few desk lamps lighting up the room. David paced, putting as much distance between himself and Killian as he could, safe in the knowledge that Graham would strike down the wolf at his command should things go south.

After what seemed like an age, David stopped, digging his hands into the pockets of his slacks and gave Killian a sideways glance. Killian watched the muscles in his forearms ripple, a clear indication of his fists balling in his pockets. “Do you know who I am?”

“Aye, sir.” Killian nodded quickly.

“And do you know why you are here? Still breathing, I mean?” David snarled.

“Dad,” Emma warned, stepping to Killian’s side. 

David narrowed his eyes at his daughter, once again stepping out of line, and shot Graham a glance over the top of both of them, a silent nod of direction that had him behind Killian before anyone realised what was happening. Graham grabbed Killian’s arms, holding them behind his back and restraining him, slipping on a pair of shackles that neither Killian nor Emma had noticed the beta carrying.

“Dad? Graham?” Emma screamed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s alright, Emma,” Killian assured her gently. He could smell her anxiety, her skin humming with fear. “Your father is just taking precautions,” Killian told her, locking eyes with David despite Graham’s warning. “He doesn’t know me, after all.”

David’s lips twitched a tiny bit, the smile playing across his lips only briefly as he contemplated Killian’s words. “For a wolf with such acumen, you are playing a dangerous game running with my daughter,” David told him darkly. “I should rip out your throat for the disrespect you have shown me and my family.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I can’t help the way I feel towards your daughter.” Killian bowed his head, swallowing a thick lump down his throat, slowly looking back to David when he was met with silence.

“Dad, can I say something?” Emma interrupted earnestly, stepping in front of Killian to break her father’s murderous stare.

“No.” David told her firmly.

“And that’s the problem isn’t it?” Emma spat, her anger rising far higher than she had realised. Both Killian and Graham stared at her, shocked, their hearts in their mouths for what was to come next. “Nobody gets to say anything because _you_ are always right!”

“I’m not always right, Emma,” David told her through a clenched jaw. “I am guided to what is right, and you should follow-”

“Seriously?” Emma screeched. “The Chronicle?”

“Emma, it's our sacred text,” Graham reminded her softly from the corner of the room.

“It’s a crock of shit!” Emma shouted at him. She gave him a pleading glance, willing him to help her. He was fighting for the same thing she was, if not more, and it was not a battle she would win alone.

“It’s very clear on our place in this world,” David reminded her harshly. “What do you think would happen if a human found out about our existence and managed to prove it?” He advanced on her but she did not shrink away, instead planting her feet firmly on the floor between him and Killian.

“Some already know,” Killian uttered and both David and Graham glared in his direction. David’s face was that of fury, the darkness behind his eyes coming to the surface as they flickered with his inner rage. Graham’s was that of fear, the fact that Killian would even mention humans knowing meaning only one human in his eyes. Ruby, and by proxy, his son, were in danger if David knew of them.

“What?” David spat, forgetting for a second that the wolf behind his daughter was even there. “What do you mean?”

“Killian,” Graham warned but his voice was more of a plea. David eyed his beta suspiciously, looking around his daughter to the tall, Irish wolf in the corner of the room. Graham immediately looked to the floor, focusing on his feet, cursing himself for the name on his tongue.

“Killian?” David asked quickly, looking between the two males. He advanced on Graham, waving a finger at him enraged. “Do you know this wolf?” Graham didn’t answer, pinching his eyes closed and hanging his head as low as he could. “Answer me!” David demanded, his voice booming from the walls in the room and making Graham flinch.

“I told him his name,” Emma said quickly and hoped it was enough to placate her father. David spun to face her, the flecks of grey in his short stubble even more prominent in the light he was near. “On the phone,” she clarified, watching Graham’s ear tips blush with pink.

David seemed to relax a little and moved back to his original position near his desk. A log fire burned beside him, crackling and spitting out an ember onto the hearth that he quickly stamped under a huge, heavy boot. “I’m going to ask this once, and only once, Killian,” David began, his voice eerily calm. “Do you know of any humans who are aware of the existence of werewolves?” David said slowly, lifting his gaze to Killian.

“Only one,” Killian said sharply, holding his jaw together with tense muscles. Graham lifted his head again, his heart pounding in his chest but the next words out of Killian’s mouth took both Emma and Graham by surprise, and were not what either of them were expecting. “But she is dead now.”

“Why? How?” David asked slowly.

“Cancer,” Killian said, a lump in his throat.

“Killian, no,” Emma pleaded, rushing to his side and grabbing his arm in a panic, something which did not escape her father’s notice. “You can’t fight back,” she whimpered, unable to fight the sob in her throat when she realised of whom he was speaking. He ignored her, as much as it tore into the flesh of his heart, and lifted his head to meet David’s stoic stare once more.

“My mother was human,” Killian said proudly. “And she never uttered a word of our existence a single day of her life.”

Emma had expected her father to explode in a fit of rage. She expected Killian to be dead before his body even hit the floor, his blood soaking her father’s hands. What she didn’t expect was David to laugh, a deep throaty growl that vibrated through his chest and echoed into the room. It seemed to go on for minutes, the three wolves in front of him sharing glances in their confusion. Tears formed at the corner of David’s eyes and he wiped them away as he shook his head, his laughter fading away.

“Why would you, shackled and unable to defend yourself, tell me something like that?” David’s voice was dark and even as he stood to loom over Killian, the alpha taller than him. Even when he straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “I’m duty bound to kill you for your confession.”

“I was not raised a wolf,” Killian told him calmly. “I don’t know of your traditions, or your sacred text,” he shrugged, the joint of his shoulders aching a little as his hands were bound behind his back. “My mother taught me how to be a man, a _good_ man, because _your_ laws kept my father away from us on the threat of death.” Killian took a breath, his teeth aching from how hard he was clenching his jaw, eyes blinking away the sting of tears at the thought of his mother crying for the loss of her love. “A human raised me, knowing what I was and loved me unconditionally. You say humans are to be feared, telling your pups horror stories of their existence, but you are unwilling to trust that they are just like you, instead hiding behind the words in a bloody book.”

“A very old book,” Graham added, drawing David’s attention. When his alpha looked over to him, blue eyes blazing with fire, Graham gulped.

“What concern is this of yours, Humbert?” David had rarely used Graham’s surname, the divide in power becoming very apparent.

“Graham, you have to tell him,” Emma said softly, ignoring the way her father gave them both a frown. Graham stepped forward, grabbing Emma’s hand as he stood at her side, clutching her fingers in his. Emma gave him a weak smile and a small nod, gripping his hand so tightly her fingers turned white.

“Tell me what?” David demanded loudly, balling his fist.

“Sir, there will be no wedding, no union between Emma and I, because I am engaged to be married,” Graham said suddenly, the confidence in his voice waning towards the end of his sentence. David narrowed his eyes at his beta, inhaling hard to calm his nerves. “To a human woman that I have loved for over three years now. We have a child, David,” Graham explained, his voice now comforting, hoping he could appeal to his friend and not his alpha. “I have a son.”

“He is named after you,” Emma added sweetly, turning to her father once again. David’s face softened, the wrinkles in his brow falling flat on his face as he looked back at Graham, his expression a mixture of shock and humility. Emma saw her father through the facade, the man that had made her seek out a wolf like Killian in the first place, and gave him a smile. “He’s so handsome, Dad,” Emma began, watching the conflict on her father’s face.

David couldn’t help the feeling he had inside at that moment in time. Emma was his only child, the light in his life that had shone so brightly in the darkest time, when he and Snow had thought their lives would be forever childless. He would never forget the feeling of becoming a father, pushing aside all of his duties and responsibilities as alpha in that exact moment to hold his daughter in his arms. She was more precious to him than anything in the entire world. More than The Chronicle. More than being alpha. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.

With a sigh, David turned away from them, stalking to his huge, dark oak desk and planting his hands firmly against the edge of it. He leaned forward, the conflict weighing heavy on his mind and evident across his face, his muscles rippling with tension in his back. He let out a grunt of frustration and spun around to face them once more, leaning back on his desk and folding his arms over his chest.

“So, here’s what I know,” David said slowly, pressing a single finger to his lips as he processed another thought. “My beta, a wolf I thought I could trust, has been sneaking around behind my back for over three years with a human woman, the result of which, bears my name.” He pushed himself to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of them like a principle scolding three naughty children. “And my only daughter, the heir to my estate and legacy, has not only fallen in love with an outsider, but a mongrel outsider, raised without a shred of knowledge of werewolf lore.” He paused, looking back to the three pairs of eyes watching him expectantly. “Anything else I should know about? Because apparently, for an alpha, I don’t know a damn thing.”

“My father runs with Neverland,” Killian said, swallowing the taste of disgust. He had never called Brennan his father before, the wolf unworthy of the title because he had broken his mother’s heart.

“Perfect!” David laughed, throwing his head back dramatically. “It gets better!”

“He was the one who told us of the attack,” Graham added.

“And why would a Neverland wolf share this sort of information?” David asked sarcastically. He had never heard of a double-cross involving a Neverland member, mainly because his brother would have found out and murdered the traitor before they had even passed on the information they had acquired.

“Guilt,” Killian said simply, his words deep and laced with revulsion. “Something happened and he seeks redemption for his participation. Or lack of intervention.”

“What happened?” David asked quickly, flashing Emma a concerned look.

“Killian was tortured,” Emma told him, her lip beginning to quiver. “By Walsh. Because of me.” Emma moved in front of Killian again, palming his face with her hand and pressing her body into his. It was painful to even recall, and she knew he of all people would have the most trouble. She had been there, through the nightmares, through the anxiety and had always brought him out of it. Her gentle caress earned her a steady nod as he nuzzled her palm. “They were after me, and Killian gave himself to make sure I could get away.”

“What?” David snapped. “What happened?” he demanded, fist balling at the mere thought of his daughter in danger.

Emma stroked her finger over Killian’s face again, the tips lingering on the newly inflicted scalpel mark that matched the scar on his other cheek. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, averting his gaze to the floor. “Walsh said he was tasked with impregnating Emma. They had followed her until her heat came in.” Killian’s hands tensed into tight fists at the thought of Walsh touching the she-wolf he loved, the shackles around his wrists pinching his skin.

“To what end?” David demanded again, the vein visible on his forehead pulsating with anger. “I would never exile my own child.” David’s words shocked even him, his blatant disregard for The Chronicle slipping from his mouth before he had time to stop it. 

Emma’s head snapped up towards him, her eyes watery with tears already and a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You wouldn’t?” she croaked.

“Of course not,” David told her firmly, holding out his hand for her to take. Emma looked at his outstretched arm for a second before grabbing his hand and letting him pull her into his embrace. Emma fell against his chest and buried her face in the musky scent of his sweater, letting him hold her tightly in his arms. 

“But, The Chronicle says-” Emma sniffed.

“I know what the Chronicle says.” David paused, his hands rubbing up and down Emma’s back. He pressed his lips to her crown, letting his kiss linger atop her golden locks longer than he had intended whilst he considered the future of werewolf kind. If James had truly thought that he would exile Emma, he really didn’t know him as well as he thought. And if James thought The Chronicle would help him achieve his goal of becoming Alpha of Misthaven, well, there were ways around that too.

“The Chronicle is clear in these matters,” David began slowly, pulling Emma from his body and looking down at her. She was somehow smaller than he remembered and he wiped his thumb over her cheek to brush away her tears. “If you were to bear the pup of a mongrel-” He trailed off, unable to say the words they all knew.

David looked over his daughter, the lingering scent of her heat still evident in her musk. It was laced with the wolf standing behind her, Killian’s strong, wolfish smell almost offensive to David’s nostrils. David trusted his daughter, he really did. He knew he had raised her with more respect than she sometimes showed, even if sometimes they had a difference of opinion. But it didn’t stop the thought of her with child crossing his mind. The offspring of a mongrel no less.

“We were careful,” Emma told him quietly, looking down to her feet, embarrassed by her sudden confession. She knew what her father was thinking, his eyes darkening as they took in Killian again and again, the muscles in his jaw ticking under his stubble.

“More careful than Graham, it seems.” David gave his beta a hard stare, the man’s cheeks pinking instantly. “I don’t know what is worse, my beta siring a mongrel child in secret or my daughter falling in love with one.” Emma gave David a confused look which he simply returned with a light hearted smile. “I know love when I see it, Emma,” he said gently. “You have simply followed your heart, as well as your nose, though I wish you hadn’t.”

“I’m not sorry for loving Killian,” Emma blushed. She turned and looked at Killian, the blue of his eyes still catching the light just right, even in her father’s darkened room, and making her heart glow. Killian didn’t have to do much except look at her for the flutter in her stomach to become so intense she needed to be near him. Even the small distance between them was too much right now, and when he offered her a reassuring tick of a smile, she nearly melted. “Fate had other ideas for me.”

“And for me it seems,” David scoffed playfully, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. “You know what? To hell with that musty old book,” he smiled, kissing her forehead. He let his lips linger, inhaling the smell of her and loving how she reminded him of her mother. “Your mother had been telling me for years to change it.”

“You can do that?” Graham asked him, his brows knitting together.

David shrugged, releasing Emma from his hold. “Of course I can.” He was met with blank stares. “Jeez, did neither of you pay attention in werewolf studies?” Emma and Graham shared a look, a guilty look that said they had, indeed, not paid attention in the lessons that were supposed to teach them about their heritage. David rolled his eyes and pushed Emma from his chest, offering her a sympathetic smile before making his way to the huge wall of books behind his desk. He stopped, lifted his arm and dragged his fingertips over the spines of several books until he found the one he was looking for, hooked it out with his finger and then turned back to them. 

The book was heavy, so David placed the tome on the desk in front of him, dust erupting from its pages. David opened the cover, smoothing his finger down a long list of contents until, with a shriek of elation, he found was he was looking for. Lifting over half the book’s pages, he let them fall open with a thud, eyes scanning the small typeface of the page he had found before reading it out loud. “ _An Alpha, should he find the need, will be permitted to adjust the lore within these pages to the benefit of werewolf kind._ ”

The room fell silent and David stood erect once more, his stare fixed on Killian. The young wolf didn’t look away, instead holding the alpha’s gaze as he nodded towards Emma. “You love her, don’t you?”

“More than you will ever know,” Killian said without skipping a beat. “I endured hell at the hands of that wretched excuse for a wolf, and I would do it all again to make sure Emma was safe.”

“Would you kill for her?” David asked.

“Aye,” Killian nodded without hesitation. “I would do anything for her. I came here today to prove that. You can kill me, string me up and make an example of the mongrel who dared look an alpha in the eye, but I want you to know that Emma and I are fated to be together forever, and nothing you say will stop me from loving her, or fighting for the right to show her how much she means to me.”

Emma’s heart grew even larger in her chest, the words spilling from Killian’s mouth full of passion and grace, his courage for all to see. Everybody had warned him about her father, including her, and the way David was staring at him with a combination of admiration and steady unease, made Emma nervous. She hadn’t felt this way since the day her father had asked Graham to marry her, his face unreadable.

“Will you marry her, take her as your mate and produce an heir?” David finally spoke in a more serious tone, frowning slightly at his own question. He made a mental note to update the vernacular associated with swearing a new wolf into the pack. It was about time for change. “Can you even do that?”

Killian chuckled, relief washing over him. “I assure you, we are the same.”

“The heir of Misthaven has, and always will be a wolf,” David said firmly, looking to each of them in turn. “He or she will learn the ways of our kind, new and old, and pass them onto their progeny with pride.” David fixed his stare on Killian once more. “Pureblood _or_ otherwise.” Emma inhaled sharply, her father’s words taking her breath away.

“Does that mean my son is safe?” Graham intervened only briefly, his concern lacing his words.

“And your mate,” David assured him as if reading his thoughts. “From now on, Werewolves are permitted to mate with whoever they like, as long as it does not threaten our kind.” David’s words were almost lost in the sound of Graham’s sigh as he let out a huge breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. “There will, of course, be an adjustment process, and the boy will have to learn how to control his inner wolf.” Graham nodded eagerly, silently agreeing to all David was saying. David’s stony face softened again, a smile playing across his lips as he looked to his beta. “And I’d say naming a child after me is of the utmost importance to werewolf kind.”

Emma threw herself at her father more desperately than she liked to admit, joy overflowing from her every pore as he wrapped his arms around her and all but squeezed the life out of her tiny frame. Graham moved at his alpha’s silent instruction and unlocked the shackles around Killian’s wrists, letting the younger wolf pull them in front of himself where he rubbed at the reddened flesh. 

Killian had barely touched his skin when Emma was lunging at him, hands finding the back of his head and pulling his lips to hers in a fiery kiss full of longing. The room melted away and it was just them, lips locked in a passionate embrace, hands roaming the other’s back, neck, ears, hair, any place that they could find to keep themselves tethered to the other. They kissed until they had no breath left, finally parting with a sigh and resting their foreheads together. Killian stroked Emma’s cheek with his knuckle, smoothing his thumb pad over the corner of her mouth until she gave him the smile he so longed to see again.

“I hate to break up this happy reunion,” Graham suddenly interrupted. “But we got company.” They turned to see him peering out of the window between a crack in the old, yellowing curtains that were drawn across it. Their hackles raised at the tone of his voice and David rushed to his side, watching a parade of trucks pull up on Misthaven grounds and hordes of Neverland wolves jump from the flatbed trailers.

David let out a sigh, turning to the couple who had not left each other’s embrace with a sadness in his eyes. All he had ever wanted for his daughter was for her to be happy, as happy with someone as Snow had made him, and now, thanks to his sadistic twin brother, she might never get the chance. 

“Time to prove yourself, Killian,” David said, commanding his newest pack member. “Protect my daughter. Keep her safe.”

Killian gave Emma’s arm a squeeze and nodded to David. “Aye, sir. Always.”


	23. Chapter 23

“What are they doing?” Graham asked quietly, his voice barely audible. 

David was at the window, peeking through a gap in the curtains, but he had seen all he needed to see. The barrage of werewolves on his land was a real threat, fanning out in human form around a single truck that David knew held his brother. James was dramatic, he always had been, and he would be the last wolf to appear.

“Awaiting orders,” David mumbled, watching the array of wolves with a narrowed stare. His breath fogged the glass in front of his face as he spoke, clouding his view of the attackers.

They were organized and methodical, moving into position like they had been practising for years. David heaved a sigh at the thought. Knowing his brother, these wolves had probably been conditioned to the highest degree, beaten until they were unable to take any more and then made to take more. James was pure hatred and in his world, only the strongest survived.

David wasn’t sure how many wolves had lost their lives at the hands of James. The only one thing he knew for certain was that they had.

“Speaking of,” Graham interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his Alpha’s shoulder. “We have wolves ready throughout the grounds, inside and outside the house. Will is awaiting my next instruction.”

“Will is here?” Emma asked, almost a little too excitedly.

“Who is Will?” Killian added gruffly, a darkness to his voice that had David staring directly at him. The Alpha cocked his head sideways and looked at his newest pack member.

Killian looked at Emma and the blue of his eyes had turned grey, taking on a coal like darkness that echoed the clench of his jaw. She matched his stare, green eyes boring into his, the silent conversation between them of assurances not going unnoticed by their Alpha. Emma was telling him it was okay, that she would explain everything, but Killian only had rage in his eyes.

“Something I should know?” David prompted them, interrupting their stare.

Graham looked to Emma, who gave him a sideways glance, not committing to the full act of looking at him. He had no idea that mentioning Will would cause this sort of reaction of her mate, and he looked to Killian nervously. The only other wolf he had ever seen with the same sort of look was James.

“Answer your Alpha,” Graham insisted, nudging Killian with his elbow.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma said impatiently.

David silenced her with a wave of his hand, moving across the room towards Killian. He took him in, Killian’s stance closed and aggressive, shoulders hunched and stiff from tension. He was angry, but David couldn’t tell why. His scent had changed, a more masculine scent than before invading the space between them as David approached him and shook him from his fury with a slight nudge.

“Killian?” David spoke quietly and calmly, and Killian blinked a few times, clearing his red blurred vision. David looked at him, a mixture of fear and apology in Killian’s eyes after the inner wolf, so full of bloodlust, had subsided. A blush crept over his cheeks and Killian licked his lips nervously, averting his gaze as David reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” Killian stuttered nervously. “I’m not...I don’t-”

“Will is Graham’s beta,” David assured him kindly. “He is no threat, I promise you. I know it’s hard, all these terms and new rules that you’ve never heard before.” Killian nodded a little. “We can help you tame it, Killian. I know the inner wolf so eagerly craves blood, and we have all struggled.”

Killian’s eyes went wide with shock, and despite all his warnings, he stared David directly in the eye. There was no challenge, and David knew that; he was not threatened a single bit by the half-wolf in front of him. 

“Your whole life is about to change. You are going to feel things you never have before, and some will be confusing,” David told him with a warm smile. “Being a wolf takes more than being a man-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Killian interrupted sheepishly, “being half man makes me a better wolf.” 

Killian had the drive and the tenacity that made only a few wolves great, but he also harboured a darkness David had seen within his brother. James was taught the ways, shown the path, and despite his father’s encouragement, had been overtaken with the desire to kill once he spilt blood. Killian needed a gentle hand to guide him into pack order, and Misthaven was where he would find it.

“Maybe,” David agreed with a nod. “In time, and with Emma’s love, you will be a better wolf than me.”

David could see the flash of fear in Killian’s eyes, behind the bravado, the love for his daughter shining above all else. David had seen that before too, in his own reflection, his love for Mary Margaret lighting his journey and taming his own darkness, shaping him into the wolf he was today. Every wolf had the ability to become encumbered by the blackness in their hearts, but not every wolf had the chance to shine a light on it.

Emma was Killian’s light, David could see that now, and he just needed the right pack to guide him the rest of the way.

“You are strong and fierce, Killian. More wolf than human, I’d say. Do you think, just for a little while, the wolf my daughter loves can help us protect our home?” David gave Killian a warm smile, patting him on the back like an old friend and Killian felt his entire body relax.

“Yes, sir.” Killian smirked. “I can certainly try.”

“Good,” David nodded before turning to Graham with a much sterner face. “Emma, go to Will. Protect the rear. Killian, Graham, you come with me,” David demanded, the sound of his wolves rousing throughout the old house. “This is my home as long as I am breathing. Graham, you see to Walsh. That snivelling mutt needs to know his place.”

“Above or below ground?” Graham snarled, his nostrils flaring.

“You decide,” David rasped darkly. “Killian, you think you can think clearly enough to fight with me?”

“Like my life depended on it,” Killian said faithfully.

“It might,” David sighed. “I’m sorry, but it just might.”

\--

James stepped from the truck, the old leather seat squeaking under his weight as he slid from his place behind the wheel. There was a light dew hanging just above the ground all around Misthaven. It was coated with the scent of wolves, mostly male, but between the droplets of moisture, James could detect the scent of his niece. She was no longer in heat, he could smell that, but she was scared, her fear evident in the air.

“She’s here,” James growled on a long inhale, turning to meet the gaze of his beta at his side.

“I smell her too,” Walsh agreed with a nod, the inside of his mouth becoming wet with saliva. Emma’s scent was new, freshly laid across the ground and a nearby truck that reeked of the Misthaven beta, Graham Humbert. There was another scent Walsh could detect, one he would never forget as long as he was alive. He ground his jaw impatiently, fists balling at his sides. “The mongrel is here too,” he spat, lips curling as he focused on the house.

James whipped his head to the house once more, an eyebrow rising on his forehead. “The mongrel? Now that is interesting,” he muttered to himself.

“Maybe he is dead already,” Felix offered, the Neverland pack member appearing next to James. Even though he had no visible injuries from his alleyway fight with Killian, his ego was still bruised from the way Killian had grinned a blood stained smile in his face.

“If he isn’t, he soon will be,” Walsh ground out, shooting his comrade a glance whilst fingering the scar tissue on his neck.

“Enough!” James barked, looking between the two wolves on either side of him. “This isn't the time to be caught up in petty revenge,” he growled, pointing first to Felix and then to Walsh with a menacing finger. “Look where that got you last time.”

Walsh looked to the ground, his toes curling in his boots. He didn’t have to look at James to know that his Alpha was still disappointed in him, but he could redeem himself. It was either that or his life would be snuffed out before he had time to blink. James was ruthless. The years Walsh had spent at his side would mean nothing to James if he stopped him from taking Misthaven from David.

“Take half the men and flank right,” James told Felix, nodding towards the back of the house. “Stop anyone that gets in your way.”

Felix nodded eagerly, silently signalling a handful of werewolves to follow him as they slipped into the darkness beside the house and around the back. They were silent, and as big as they were, they tread silently across the driveway and scaled the fences with ease. When they were gone, Walsh let out a breath, the skin on his forearms standing to attention in the sleeves of his jacket as a ripple of excitement passed over his skin.

“This is going to be fun,” he sneered, all but rubbing his hands together.

“Attack!” James called out, ignoring his beta, his voice echoing through the nearby trees. A bird flew off from its perch, calling out it's warning as it took flight, wings hitting branches as it escaped the confines of the brush. 

The wave of werewolves behind them rushed forward, barging shoulders with each other as they let out an almighty roar, their voices carried across the land like the rumble of a huge engine. James led the charge, Walsh at his side, feet sliding on the gravel beneath their feet as they ran up the driveway that led straight to the huge doors of the house.

\--

“Will!” Emma called out, rushing through the hall and into the huge, farmhouse style kitchen at the back of the old house. She slid to a stop just in front of the huge island counter, the flash of black in Will’s eyes as he gave her a quick glance telling her he knew what she was about to say.

“They’re coming over the fences!” he said quickly, pointing left and then right. “Come on!” He motioned Emma to follow him, yanking the door open and rushing out onto the slippery grass behind the house.

Emma followed, quick to take instruction from Graham’s beta. Will Scarlett was another loyal pack member, another stray that David and Mary Margaret had taken in when his family had abandoned him. He was a few years younger than Emma but had struck up a firm relationship with Graham when they were teens. Now, adults, Will answered to Graham as his second-in-command.

Misthaven was like any other pack in terms of hierarchy, with an Alpha at the forefront, leading the pack in everyday scenarios as well as political decisions. His second-in-command would be a beta, in Misthaven’s case Graham Humbert, who in turn would have his own beta. Will Scarlett was Graham’s beta, and as such, a high ranking member of the Misthaven pack, so Emma fell into line immediately, following his orders.

Out in the open yard they were bombarded, five burly looking werewolves in human form rushing towards them whilst the one known as Felix followed up the rear. Emma spied him instantly, recognising him from the alleyway where Killian was taken, and caught his gaze with her stare. He sneered, lips curving back across his teeth in a grimace that made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You take the stragglers,” Emma whispered to Will. “The big guy is mine.”

Will didn’t have time to object before he was pushed out of the way by Emma, her eyes fixed on Felix with an aggressive stare. Her feet carried her across the grass, dodging a few of the Neverland wolves, the point of her elbow connecting with Felix’s jaw as she jumped through the air with a roar. He recoiled back, his forward momentum causing his jaw to slide sideways and out of place, his hand immediately clutching the offending joint as he fell to the ground.

Emma skidded to a stop, turning to face the brute with a wicked grin. Felix snapped his head towards her, a growl escaping his throat as he grunted in frustration. His mouth tasted coppery, the blood from his gums coating his tongue, and with a curl of his lips, Felix spat a mixture of blood and saliva to the ground.

“You don’t look so tough,” Felix grunted, shaking his head at her and pushing himself to his feet. He rushed her again, but Emma parried left, spinning on her heel and righting her stance immediately in case he was quicker than her. He wasn’t, his weight not on his side as it carried him passed her, and Emma sent a kick right into his back. Felix howled, arching his back into the pain as he fell to his knees.

“How do I look now?” Emma smirked.

Felix scrambled to his feet, charging her once more, his jaw clenched tight as he ignored the pain that still throbbed through it. Emma was ready, blocking blow after blow as they sparred, Felix’s clenched fist finally connecting with her face. He grinned triumphantly, snorting through his nose, and Emma dabbed the split in her lip.

“Oh,” Felix taunted, heaving a breath. “Did that hurt, princess?”

Emma grit her teeth, inspecting her fingertips for blood, the crimson fluid coating her skin. She growled under her breath and licked the cut, the tang of copper coating her taste buds. 

“Not as much as this is going to!” Emma roared, rushing for the brute once more.

Felix let out a cry, and Emma dodged him again. She was smaller than him, more nimble and she landed another elbow to the back of his neck. He cried out, clutching the back of his head and narrowing his eyes at her as he winced in pain. Emma smiled, mirroring the one Killian had given Felix in the alleyway, and it made him boil with rage. Felix let out an anguished cry, tearing the jacket from his back and falling to all fours with a groan.

Emma watched in disbelief as Felix changed, his hands clutching at the ground before turning into paws and his spine growing longer as he stretched into wolf form. His clothes ripped from his body and Emma was met with the sight of his wolf, the huge, black tipped grey hairs of his pelt bristling along his back. Felix lifted his head after his transformation, a low growl in the back of his throat as his green eyes darkened and fixed on his prey. 

“Oh, shit!” Emma gasped, a hot flush of panic rippling over her flesh. She turned tail and ran, heading back towards the house as Felix gave chase, snarling and snapping at her heels. She ran into the house through the kitchen door and turned, pushing the heavy wooden door as hard as she could, but the weight of the wolf pursuing her crashed into it and sent her flying across the kitchen.

Emma hit the wall, crashing into her mother’s display of patterned plates, and overturning the table in the process. There was a huge crashing sound, bits of the broken ceramics raining down on her as she winced from a pain that shot through her ribs. One was definitely broken, maybe two, and she clutched her side in agony, boots scuffing the dusty, wooden floorboards as she scrambled for cover behind the fallen farmhouse table. A shard of a plate had sliced her face, but Emma ignored the dripping wound when Felix’s growl roused her once more.

The wolf was in the house, the door swinging shut behind him keeping Will outside. Emma heard him sniff the air, tongue licking at his chops as he sought her out. She knew he could smell her, and it was only a matter of time before he realised she was so close and injured. Emma glanced around, finding only a huge shard of the broken crockery and clutched it in her hand. 

The sound of Felix’s claws on the floor drew nearer, and Emma could even hear the drops of his drool hitting the floor as they spilt from his maw. He growled low, a warning most likely, and Emma clutched the broken bird covered porcelain harder, the jagged edge tearing into the fingers of her skin and palm. With a bark of excitement, Felix leapt onto the edge of the upturned table, looming over her and Emma cried out in surprise.

The wolf snapped its jaws, lips upturned in a menacing snarl, fangs dripping with saliva as it growled, green eyes aglow with hatred. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her arm, broken plate piece ready to strike but then, out of nowhere, the sound of cast iron hitting bone echoed through the kitchen and Felix slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. The hollow vibration rang out again, and again, and Emma peeled her eyes open to see her mother straightening her stance and wiping specks of blood from her pale face.

“Mom?” Emma asked, her voice high pitched.

“Hush,” barked Snow, eyeing the wolf carcass now slumped over her kitchen table. She huffed, annoyed. “If your father thinks I am going to hide away in some panic room whilst my daughter gets mauled by a Neverland wolf, he has another thing coming.”

Snow extended her hand to her daughter, smiling warmly as Emma clutched her limb and was pulled upright. Emma groaned in pain as she stood, the feel of bone crunching against bone inside her torso and the sting of her cut cheek as it reopened making her hiss. Snow looked her over, concern etched on her face, but Emma gave her a reassuring nod.

“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted but Snow was unconvinced, just about to object when Will came crashing through the back door.

He was bloodied, a swollen lip and a cut under his eyes, but somehow Emma could still see the red tint of a blush when he realised Snow had caught him inside the house with dirty boots and clothes on. She gave him a frown, hands on hips as she motioned to his mud clad footwear with a glare, just like when he was a child.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nolan,” Will stammered quickly, out of breath from his fight. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”

“Yes, you will,” Snow chastised him playfully. “But not before you go help my husband.” Snow pointed to the hall, giving Will the silent go ahead. He nodded, rushing off through the doorway as Emma collapsed against her mother once more.

\--

Will bounded up the huge staircase three steps at a time, grabbing the rail and pulling his weight with each step. He breathed heavily, already half exhausted from his fight with the straggling wolves outside, but the sound of his Alpha in a fight made him ignore the burning in his lungs and continue on to his goal. At the top of the stairs he saw Graham, engaged in a fist fight with James and from the look of things, gaining the upper hand.

The Neverland Alpha was strong, and he fought back, countering each of Graham’s blows with one of his own. The men exchanged blows so furiously quick, Will had a hard time keeping track, but he heard the unmistakable sound of teeth breaking loose from James’ jaw as Graham landed a backhanded punch to the older wolf’s face. James stumbled backwards, giving Graham pause, and the Neverland Alpha looked back at him slowly, a dark, narrow stare as he spit blood out onto the floor between them.

“My brother chose a fine Beta in you, Humbert,” James said darkly, licking at a split in his lower lip. He rearranged his jaw again, spitting out a tooth which hit the floor and sounded like a dice rolling across the wooden boards. “Ever considered a darker career path?”

“Not in a million years,” Graham spat disgustedly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Ah, that’s right,” James said snidely. “You can’t, what with your human and mongrel child.”

Graham ground his jaw, fists balling at his sides. He hunched his shoulders, staring down the Alpha who dared threaten his family. He didn’t know how James knew, and he didn’t want to know, but what he did want was the man in front of him dead. Anger fuelled his already tired body and Graham lunged forward, teeth bared and his lungs expelling a cry of rage.

“Graham, no!” Will screamed, the thickness of his accent rolling his tongue around the name.

Graham didn’t listen, following through his action and grabbing James by the shoulders. The men stumbled backwards, Graham’s weight atop James as they rolled to the floor. James threw a punch upward, colliding with Graham’s jaw, but the beta didn’t falter, stiffening his neck to absorb the blow. James lifted his knee, tossing Graham over his head in one motion that sent the beta sprawled out behind him towards the end of the hall.

“You’d better get me, boy!” James taunted, pushing himself to his feet and motioning Graham to him with a flick of his fingers. “Before I get to that pretty human of yours.”

Graham jumped to his feet, barely giving himself a chance to shake off his fall when he charged James again. The Neverland alpha grinned a bloody smile, digging his hand behind his back to grip at the handle of a knife sheathed on his belt. As Graham got closer, James took up stance, half squatting on the spot, bouncing on the balls of his feet ready to move. As Graham reached him, James dodged sideways, pulling his knife free and plunging it into Graham’s shoulder as he passed him.

Graham cried out, falling to the floor with a thud, and Will was at his side in an instant. By the time Graham rolled over, hand clawing at the top of his shoulder, James was gone, nothing but his scent lingering in the hallway.

“Where did he go?” Will asked quickly, assessing Graham’s shoulder. The blade was in deep, probably touching bone, and Graham winced with a growl when Will gave it a tug.

“God, Scarlett!” Graham hissed. “Stop pulling on it!” Graham batted his beta’s hand away, tutting in frustration.

“It’s got to come out!” Will insisted. Graham growled again, half a groan of consensus as he nodded. “On three,” Will told him firmly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the hunting knife. Graham tensed, gritting his teeth and snorting short, panicked breaths. “One, two-”

“Son of a bitch!” Graham yelled when Will pulled the blade earlier than he anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quickly, tossing the blade aside and covering the wound with his hand. “Hold still, let me see.” Graham calmed his writhing, steading his breath as Will lifted his now bloodied palm and peered down at the slice in Graham’s shoulder. He wrinkled his nose a little but the wound looked clean and not as deep as he first thought. “I think you’re good,” Will confirmed. “It looks clean.”

“That mother fucker,” Graham rasped, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouting. “He’s gone after David.”

“Killian was with him,” Will assured, helping him into a more comfortable position. Graham hissed through the pain, his shoulder blade throbbing like he had been burned. “I’ll go and check-”

“No!” Graham insisted hastily, clutching Will’s arm desperately. “Neverland knows about my family,” he gasped between breaths. “Go to the cabin. Make sure Ruby and Davin are okay.”

“But-” Will began.

Graham cut him off. “This is not up for discussion, Scarlett!” he growled. He grabbed Will by the head, forcing the lower pack member to look directly in his eye, and unable to look away, Will paled under Graham’s command. “Go.”

Will nodded, rushing to his feet and fleeing the hall, his feet pounding the floorboards as he ran down the stairs and out the huge fortified front doors. Graham slumped back against the wall, the cold, wet patch of bloodied cloth sticking to his skin as it pressed against the surface behind him. He looked along the hall in the direction James could only have gone, and prayed Killian was able to finish what he had started.

\--

David and Killian were holed up in one of the libraries with nowhere to go. They would fight their way out if needed, but David had intentionally drawn the Neverland wolves to that spot because he knew it would give them the advantage. He knew the house like the back of his hand, and any Neverland wolf able to get through his pack defenses would surely fall by his hand.

The sound of men hitting each other ricocheted through the old house as wolves battled each other. Dull, sickening punches and the cracking of bones was all that could be heard from the opposite side of the door. Killian’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsing through his eardrums and almost making him deaf to the cries of wolves as they fell. He wasn’t sure if they were friend or foe, but he was caught between the lust for blood and the fear of the battle. Killian had never encountered hostility like the Neverland pack, and if he survived, he never wanted to again.

_“You traitor!”_

Killian looked at David when he heard the unmistakable sound of Walsh from the end of the hall. There was another room there, and David nodded when Killian reached for the handle, twisting it open silently. They both stared down the silent hallway, bodies littering the landing like dirty laundry. There was another shout, this time of pain, and Killian instantly recognised it as his father. 

“Neverland is fighting amongst themselves,” David whispered, peering over Killian’s shoulder.

“It’s my father,” Killian told him, whispering back. 

“He’s here? Why?” David looked confused. He knew that Brennan Jones was a member of Neverland, but what he didn’t know was why he would be fighting in their corner, turning on his own to help defend an Alpha he didn’t follow. 

Killian strained to listen, but the conversation between Brennan and Walsh was muffled on the other side of the door. He could only smell Walsh and his father, the still warm bodies of the fallen wolves fading from his senses.

“He’s helping,” Killian whispered, unable to believe his own words.

The dull sound of a clenched fist hitting a body caught Killian’s attention and without thinking, he ran along the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. The door at the end led into one of the libraries, and just as his boot connected with the door and sent it flying open, Killian saw his father hunched over in pain. Brennan was clutching his stomach, all the air leaving his body as he stumbled back into a huge wall of books. With little energy to even stand, Brennan grabbed a book from the shelf behind his shoulder and launched it at his attacker, the heavy leather bound tome hitting Walsh directly in the jaw.

Walsh recoiled in pain, grabbing his face as the weight of the book completely turned his neck sideways and his head was jarred unnaturally. He snarled in anger, launching himself at Brennan once again, but Killian was there to block his assault and take the brunt of the damage. He caught his arm mid air, twisting it sideways with a sickening snapping sound, Walsh howling in agony as he desperately tried to pull away.

“Killian, get back!” Brennan rasped, his voice changed from how hard he had been gasping for breath. He clutched at his arm, a burn mark in the fabric there.

“No!” Killian roared, eyes fixed on Walsh, his feet planted firmly on the ground to protect his father.

“Listen to your father,” Walsh spat, hugging his broken arm to his chest. “Or should we end this once and for all, mongrel?” 

With an evil grin, Walsh presented what he had been hiding behind his back, and the reason why Brennan had been overpowered so easily. The long black pole of the cattle prod in his hands sent a shiver down Killian’s spine, his neck flushing hot with anxiety at the sight of it. Walsh let out a chuckle, his sadistic laugh not even enough to rouse Killian from his panic. He was frozen, petrified to the spot and when Walsh turned it on, the blue spark jumping between the pronged ends, Killian flinched backward.

“Oooo!” Walsh sounded through a laugh. “Looks like someone has a little residual trauma lingering around.”

Killian took a breath, steadying his nerves, grinding his teeth at the remark. He knew Walsh was just torturing him, trying to force him into making a move. Walsh was injured, incapacitated by his broken arm in such a way that all he really had left was his threats. Killian licked his lips, eyes scanning over Walsh’s face, searching for any indication that the wolf in front of him might attack, only all Killian saw was panic behind Walsh’s bravado. He was a wolf alone in a battle, outnumbered and at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong?” Killian asked frankly. “You look a little scared.”

“Ha!” Walsh sneered. “Of you two?” He motioned between them with a wave of the cattle prod. “An old wolf not fit to be alive and his mongrel son? Please.” Walsh stepped forward, brandishing the sparking pole and Killian couldn’t fight the way his body moved back again. Walsh let out a sadistic laugh, igniting the rod once more, only for it to fizzle out after a small blue spark as the batteries run flat.

“You’re not having much luck, are you boy?” Brennan coughed, clutching his side as a grin lit up his face. “Not so big without weapons, are you?”

Brennan’s jibe riled Walsh enough that he lunged forward, holding the pole above his head with the intention of striking Killian. Killian was too quick, reaching up and grabbing the cattle prod mid strike, his might too much for Walsh who had to let go when Killian twisted the device from his grip. Walsh jumped back, huddled near the wall, panting hard from the tussle.

“What are you going to do now, halfbreed?” Walsh spat, his lips curling over his teeth in disgust at the words he used.

Killian looked down at the rod in his hands and then back to Walsh, a wolfish grin on his face. He shook his head, pinching his eyes closed for a second, before tossing the defunkt pole aside where it hit the wooden floor with a clatter.

“I’m not like you,” Killian ground out. “I will not hurt someone else for fun.”

“Just like I suspected,” Walsh growled. “Weakness runs in the Jones blood. Tell me, Killian,” Walsh growled, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small handgun. Killian’s eyes went wide, the black pistol pointed directly at him. “Does Liam know how to fight?” he asked, waving the pistol around, “ because, when I’m done with you, I am going to find him, kill him and wipe every last Jones halfbreed from existence!”

“Over my dead body!” Brennan rasped, forcing his change in the blink of an eye. The light grey wolf leapt through the air, black patches around his eyes like a bandit mask, jaws snapping together as he attempted to reach Walsh. There was almost no time to react, Walsh squeezing the trigger as soon as Brennan’s feet left the ground, the crack of the gun echoing through the house.

Brennan let out a yelp, his wolf body stopping mid air and falling to the ground like a stone. Killian felt his entire body go cold, the whole scene playing out in slow motion as his father’s body hit the floor and Walsh fled through a door at the back of the room. The narrow passage was like a secret tunnel into the next room and as he squeezed through the gap, he dropped his gun. It clattered to the ground but was soon forgotten over the whining wolf at Killian’s feet.

“Dad! No!” Killian cried out, rushing to his father’s side. He slid down to his knees, tearing the jacket from his back as Brennan changed back to human, his naked form quaking on the dusty floorboards. Killian covered his father with his jacket and attempted to make him more comfortable, bundling the man into his arms like a babe and ignoring the way blood stained his hands. “Come on, stay with me.”

“You called me Dad,” Brennan smiled, looking up at his son with a glassy stare. His eyes were vacant, void of the colour they had once held so vividly, and Killian heard a rasp from his father’s chest.

“And I will again, just hold on, can you do that for me?” Killian clutched his father’s body harder, pulling him closer to his body. Brennan groaned, the twist of his body causing him pain. “Somebody help!” Killian called into the room, quickly scanning for anyone who could help him but finding them all alone.

“Killian,” Brennan muttered, clutching his son’s arm and drawing his attention. Killian looked down, the paleness of his father’s face a stark contrast to his black hair.

“No, don’t try to talk. Somebody will come,” Killian reassured his father, but he didn’t believe the words himself.

“I want you to know-” Brennan’s words were cut off by a hacking cough, blood dribbling from his mouth and down the side of his face. Killian’s hand hovered over his father’s face, ready to dab at the trickle of blood down in his father’s beard. He was unsure what to do, how to save him, and his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of losing the man in his arms.

“I know,” Killian smiled weakly. “I love you too.”

“Tell Liam,” Brennan rasped, and when he inhaled, his chest sounded hollow. The bullet had gone through a lung, possibly something much worse, and he was drowning in his own blood. “Tell Liam, I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to tell him yourself, just hold on.” Killian reached under his jacket and pressed his hand to his father’s wound, the tiny, circular hole oozing crimson on every one of Brennan’s breaths. 

“I wish-” he gasped on a ragged breath.

“What, Dad, what?” Killian asked him eagerly, desperate to hear his voice a little while longer.

“I wish I was half the wolf you’ve grown to be, my boy,” Brennan coughed, his words but a whisper. His hand found the side of Killian’s prickly face and traced the apple of his cheek with a serene smile. “You’re just like your mother,” he told Killian softly before expelling his last breath, his hand falling back down to Killian’s lap as his smile faded.

“No, father, no!” Killian cried without pause, his words quick and panicked. “Don’t leave me again! Not again,” he whispered through tears, his father’s lifeless body heavy in his arms.

Killian had convinced himself he would never love his father. He had grown up believing that the man had left his mother, breaking her heart, for himself and nothing else. Killian now knew he was wrong, and his father was willing to sacrifice even more for those he loved, including his own life. Killian pulled his father’s suddenly heavy body towards him even harder and cried. Hot, fat tears streamed down his face and dripped onto Brennan’s head tucked under his chin. Killian was sure his wails could be heard throughout the house, but still, no one came. 

The sound of a frustrated growl coming from the next room pulled his attention away from his father, and fuelled with a new anger for Walsh, the wolf who had taken and tried to take everything from him. Killian let his father’s body slip from his grasp and pushed himself to his feet. He took a long, deep breath, wiping at the tears wetting his face, and ignoring the discarded gun as he pushed himself through the gap and into the next room.

“Fuck!” Walsh growled, kicking the door that was locked from the outside. It was trapping him in the room; there was no other way out except back through the other room where he really did not want to be. A noise from behind him made him freeze and spin around, forehead beaded with sweat and eyes wide with a newfound fear for the young wolf that had appeared.

Killian was different. The blue of his eyes was replaced with black, his previous hues as soulless as the devil. Walsh swallowed hard, clutching his arm tighter to his hunched frame as he panted for breath. For the first time in his life, he was the scared, cornered prey of a predator hell bent on revenge. Killian’s nostrils flared a little and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, the tips of his ears pink with anger.

Killian surged forward across the last remaining foot between them, and grabbed the lapels of Walsh’s jacket. He hoisted Walsh into the air, the wolf shying away from his gaze and flinching with the expectation of a strike. Walsh’s one good arm covered his head, instinctively trying to protect himself, and he couldn’t stop the whimper that tumbled from his mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, I was just following orders!” Walsh snivelled, shaking in Killian’s firm grip. 

“Orders to tear apart my family?!” Killian roared, his face inches from Walsh’s as he gave him a shake. “Orders to have my mate!” Walsh flinched even harder, pinching his eyes closed as Killian’s breath heated his face. Killian’s grip tightened on the fabric of Walsh’s jacket, twisting the material in his fists and pulling Walsh even closer to him. “Orders to kill my father?” he added darkly.

“No!” Walsh objected firmly. “No, no, no, no,” he shook his head from side to side, the sting of tears in his eyes. “He turned on me! I was just defending myself! I didn’t mean anything I said,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know that, right?” 

Killian took a long breath, loosening his grip on Walsh’s jacket. The other wolf took a breath and sighed thankfully, his body relaxing a little as Killian set him back on the floor and let him lower his hand. 

“Just his orders,” Walsh said slowly, nodding in understanding. “You don’t know what he’s like. It was follow the orders or die, Jones, what would you have done?”

Killian wasn’t sure what Walsh was trying to achieve by humanizing his so called orders. Emma had told him all about James, the twin to her father and a lion with a rather large thorn in his oversized, powerful paw. Killian expected no less than brutality from James, but after seeing the sadistic side of the Neverland beta, he thought Walsh would put up more of a fight.

“You’re right,” Killian told him calmly, his voice eerily level headed. Walsh looked at him confused, watching Killian’s hands release the edges of his jacket and slowly flatten out the creases. “What would I know?”

“Exactly!” Walsh grinned excitedly. “You’ve never been a part of a pack, followed an Alpha,” he added quickly.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, a tranquillity falling over him. “Pack loyalty is of the utmost importance.”

“See! I knew _you_ would understand!” Walsh screeched excitedly, his one good arm reaching out to pat Killian on the shoulder.

“What I understand is your idea of loyalty is to follow pack law without question. Not because you’re afraid of the consequences if you don’t, but because deep down you like the reprehensible things your Alpha _makes_ you do.” Killian rasped, looking at the spot on his shoulder where Walsh’s filthy touch had made his skin crawl. “You take pride in serving your own brand of darkness, but are too much of a coward to do so in your own name, so you disguise it as _loyalty_. You’re a weak wolf. Weak, pathetic, and I pity you.”

“So… you aren’t going to kill me?” Walsh whimpered hopefully, trying to gauge Killian’s expression.

Killian stepped back, watching his feet as he moved and then extended his hand out to Walsh. For a second, Walsh looked confused, straightening his back from his hunched position and eyeing Killian’s olive branch suspiciously. Killian nudged his head towards his hand, giving Walsh a nod, and with a small smile, Walsh reached out with his good arm and shook Killian’s hand. No sooner had his hand touched Killian’s, than the young wolf’s fingers wrapped around his palm and crushed it in a vice like grip, pulling him forward on unsteady feet until Killian was in his face again.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” Killian growled menacingly. “Because my idea of loyalty to pack law is to protect those I love, regardless of orders or the price it might cost me.” Walsh’s mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as he tried to pull his hand free, sure Killian was breaking every bone in his fingers from his grasp. “And if killing you is that price,” Killian added, the darkness back in his eyes. “I am more than willing to pay it.”

Before he had time to object any further, Walsh felt the splitting pain through his skull as Killian headbutted him, holding onto his hand ever tighter so he couldn’t shy away from the assault. Walsh cried out, his eyes springing with tears as the force of Killian’s forehead hitting his nose broke the skin wide open and triggered a stream of blood from both his nostrils. Walsh had no time to even cry out before Killian pulled his arm so hard he felt his shoulder pop, and met the momentum of his body with another headbutt.

“That was for my father,” Killian growled, Walsh’s dislocated arm limp in his grasp. 

He took a step back, lining up his next shot, which was a firm, heavy booted kick to Walsh’s crotch. The sound Walsh made as Killian’s boot connected with his balls was high pitched and like a trapped animal, the squeak in the back of his throat barely audible. Walsh crumpled to the floor, sinking to his knees and unable to grab at his throbbing testicles because of his useless arms, shaking from the pain radiating up into his belly.

“That was for thinking you could touch Emma,” Killian spat, his jaw clenched with the mere thought of anyone defiling his mate.

Killian reached out and grabbed Walsh by the throat, his fingertips digging into the straining chords of his neck. The muscles in his forearms rippled with the strain, but Killian squeezed until he heard the deep, grunting gasp of a breath and Walsh’s eyes flew open and met his in a plea of forgiveness.

“And this,” Killian paused, increasing the pressure on Walsh’s trachea. The older wolf began to wriggle in his grip but Killian didn’t let up, the tiny red pin prick dots of petechial haemorrhaging appearing in the whites of Walsh’s eyeballs. “This is for my car,” Killian rasped gravely, closing his hand around Walsh’s throat until he felt the spongy tissue and muscles of his trachea give out under his crushing grip.

Walsh went blue before he even hit the floor, his body unable to hold its own weight any longer as he struggled for breath. He rolled onto his side, broken arm and hand awkwardly clawing at his neck where Killian had left dark purple bruises in his wake. Walsh gasped, the deep, croaking sound he made as he struggled for air signifying his end. His larynx and windpipe were crushed, damaged beyond repair causing muscle spasms to close off Walsh’s airway and slowly suffocate him. 

Killian simply watched as the wolf at his feet writhed, legs kicking out wildly, and boot soles scraping the wooden floor. Wide eyed and full of fear, Walsh’s ability to swallow disappeared and he began to drool, saliva mixing with the blood that already coated his lips from his broken nose. He caught Killian’s gaze, eye flicking from side to side as his brain began to shut down, remnant muscle twitches all that was soon left when his chest ceased to rise and fall.

Killian held his breath for what felt like an age, staring at Walsh’s body as it continued to twitch even after death. He finally took a step backwards, stopping only when his back hit the wall of books behind him, and then his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Killian had imagined he would feel different, that taking a life would sate the beast inside of him and he would finally be able to set aside the hunger that had plagued him since he had come of age. Only, it hadn’t, and now all he felt was a numbing coldness at the realisation maybe Walsh was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all?

“Killian?” 

At first he thought he was dreaming, the long buzz in his ears almost overpowering the sound of his name. He blinked, slowly and deliberately, unable to stop the image of Walsh’s dead body from invading his thoughts. There was no blood on his hands, but Killian felt like there was, and he lifted them closer to his face to inspect his digits.

“Killian? Can you hear me?” Emma’s voice was clearer now and he lifted his head to see her crouched in front of him. One hand was on his knee, fingers gripping the joint for balance, whilst the other was planted firmly on the scruff on his cheek. 

When he blinked and rolled his eyes in her direction, she smiled and he felt a warmth wash over him. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a strangled sound that sounded like an apology.

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him softly, moving her weight so that she was in between Killian and Walsh. “Come back to me.” She blocked his view, cupping his head in her hands and tilting it back so he was looking at her and not the corpse behind her. She smiled again, the corners of her mouth ticking into a smooth line that gave Killian instant comfort. “What happened?” She pried tentatively, thumbs stroking his cheek bones and coaxing him back to her.

“I killed him.” Killian blinked again, raising his eyebrows in disbelief of his own words. He frowned, confused for a second, but when Emma gave his head a gentle shake and her eyes met his again, he knew he had no reason to be. Her eyes were filled with love and nothing else, and Killian knew that whatever he told her would not matter a single bit. “He killed my father, and I killed him.” A single tear rolled down Killian’s cheek and was lost under the pad of Emma’s thumb. 

She quickly brushed it away, and he finally gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?” Emma asked him again. 

He shook his head. “I thought it would feel different, to take a life,” Killian began, his hand finding the smooth skin of her inner wrist and tracing over the bulge of her veins lovingly. He wanted to protect her, by any means necessary, and when Walsh had threatened that notion, Killian had been unable to hold back the darkness within himself any longer. “I thought-” 

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him gently. “You thought all of the hatred you had for him would disappear, but it didn’t.”

“Yes,” Killian shook his head, his breath hitching on a sob. “And I still feel like I’m not the one in control anymore.” Killing Walsh had opened a dark door for Killian, and he felt like the hollowness that enveloped him was sure to swallow him whole. “I can’t take it back,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. “It’s free, Emma. The bloodlust inside of me is free and I’m scared I won’t be able to control it.”

Emma’s heart broke. Killian had been raised by a human, with humans. For all intents and purposes, he was a human who just happened to be able to shift into the form of a wolf. There were many things he needed to learn, and there would be some adjustments, but whether human or wolf, Emma knew that Killian knew exactly how to love. The love he had for her was the strongest, fated by the stars, and Emma had no doubts he would learn to control his impulsive inner wolf and not lose an ounce of love for her in the process.

It would make him a wolf to be feared and a man to be cherished.

Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss. She let her mouth linger on his until she felt the quiver in his lower lip stop completely, and then stroked the hair of his beard at the top of his cheeks with her thumbs, holding his face to hers even harder. She felt him relax, his whole body expelling all tension, and he hummed contently in the back of his throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asked softly, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his.

Killian let out a breathy laugh, sniffing and wrinkling his nose against hers. “Not really,” he whispered, parroting the words she had told him when she had first told him of her arranged marriage.

“Excellent,” Emma smirked, repeating his earlier retort. “Neither do I.”

“We are going to be okay,” Emma sighed happily, rolling her forehead against his as she nodded.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “We will.” It didn’t matter what was going on inside of his head, Killian knew that with Emma by his side, he would be just fine.

“At least now we know that one of the names on the tombstones from our dream was my father,” Killian added idly, the sadness in his voice evident. He let Emma help him to his feet, brushing his hands down the front of his jeans, but as soon as he had finished his words she gasped in shock. “What?” Killian asked concerned. “What is it?”

“What if the names are not ours, but the names of our fathers?” Emma asked.

Killian looked at her expression, worry etched into every line of her face. “That would mean-”

“We have to find my father,” Emma said firmly, tugging his arm as she headed towards the now unlocked door through which she had previously entered. “We have to find him now.”


	24. Chapter 24

David had expected this. It had been a long time coming. The rage that his brother held inside had been bubbling just under the surface for far too long. Something had been bound to give eventually. As civil as he seemed, James had always wanted to wear the crown, the rage of never having it reflected in every blow that he dealt to David’s body. 

A kick to the stomach had David doubling over and gasping for breath, cheeks flushed with red and lungs burning with spasms. David had no time to recover, barely able to grab at his skin over his diaphragm before James’ knee smashed into his face. David felt his nose break, and his head was thrown back from the force, nasal bones crumbling and crunching together as he cried out in pain.

“Come now, brother,” James taunted over the sound of David’s roar of pain. James tossed his brother away like a rag doll, delivering a kick to his back for good measure. David stumbled across the room, one arm wrapped across his stomach and the other held out to break his fall as he crashed into a huge ornate globe. “I am almost disappointed at how easy this is.”

David growled, a low rumble in the back of his blood filled throat, before spitting a mouthful of bloody spittle to the floor. His eyes never left his brother’s, the ridiculously charming smirk plastered on James’ face making his blood boil even more. David was strong, but James had clearly pushed himself to the brink of perfection when it had come to combat training. Having never needing to defend his title physically, David was aching all over from exertion, his hands trembling from the surge of adrenaline as he clutched the sphere of the globe and pushed himself to his feet.

“Am I being too easy on you, brother?” David spat, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking the coppery tang of blood from the swelling there. His face was smeared with crimson from his nose bleed, and he wiped it across his upper lip with the back of his hands.

James laughed through a smirk. “Not as much as I thought.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” David grunted through a wince. He wobbled forward, clutching his side as he steadied his footing, locking eyes with his twin once again.

“Please do,” James nodded. “I was expecting you to be too old for this shit.” 

David laughed, ignoring the pain in his ribs. They were clearly broken, the shattered tips grinding against each other as he moved, the severed nerve ends in the bone making him flinch as they touched the sharp edges. 

David was just about to give his brother a witty come back when the door to his study flew open and Snow appeared welding a cast iron skillet high above her head. He stared in shock, his emotions a mixture of anger and fear at the appearance of his mate, the gleeful look on James's face telling him exactly what he was most scared of.

James knew who she was.

“Well, well, well,” James sneered with an evil grin. “If it isn't the alpha's mate come to save the day.”

“You stay away from her,” David growled, cursing the pain in his ribs as he tried to move to stand between them.

James licked his lips, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he cocked his head sideways with a leer. His eyes roamed the newly appeared she-wolf, her dainty figure like a beacon of temptation. He toyed with a patch of hair under his lip, eyes darkening as he looked her over with lechery. 

“Mmmm,” he hummed to himself, licking his lips again and seemingly ignoring David in his line of sight.

“I mean it, James,” David warned, catching his brother’s gaze by blocking Snow completely from view. “This is our fight. Not hers.”

The corner of James’ smirk ticked upward, crinkling the corner of his eyes. “David,” he teased in a low, raspy voice, using his brother’s name to taunt rather than comfort. “Do you not see what I see?” He frowned, stepping sideways, towards the now extinguished fireplace and peering around the alpha in his way. “It seems we are both fighting for the same things.”

David ground his teeth, stepping to the side and blocking James’ view of his mate once more. “Don’t even think about hurting her,” he said gruffly. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

James sucked in a hiss through his teeth and shook his head. David watched as he reached down beside the fireplace, a set of hearth tools sitting on the marble step, and wrapped his fingers around a cold, iron poker. Snow gasped, and David’s entire body tensed, watching as James inspected the hook that accompanied the sharp point at the end of the tool.

“You’re really going to wish you hadn’t said that,” he grinned and lunged at his brother once more.

Snow screamed before David even moved, his body under protest the entire time. He had taken many blows from his brother’s bare fist already, bones cracked and bruises appearing all over his body, but David was never going to let any of it stop him from protecting his mate. She was in danger, especially now that James knew her face, and he would stop at nothing to protect her from the would be alpha in front of him.

David met James head on, arms reaching out to grab at his brother’s to try and stop the blow that was about to come. Luckily he managed to hit his target, holding James’ arms aloft whilst he struck him in the midriff with a well timed knee. James stumbled back, winded and almost dropping his weapon, which gave David a split second window to rush for the fireplace where an old family heirloom hung above the mantle.

The Nolan sword was centuries old but still retained a sharp edge, something David was counting on to at the very least slow his brother down. He had never wanted to hurt his brother, and at one time he had believed exiling him from Misthaven was the best course of action, but now David saw that all it had done was give James decades to fabricate his revenge.

David’s fingertips almost touched the sword when he felt a searing line of pain across his back. The poker had hit him with all the force James count muster, making him arch his back in a desperate attempt to escape the pain. James struck him again, harder this time, right across his shoulder blades and David dropped to his knees in agony.

“Stop!” Snow cried out, dropping her skillet to the floor with an almighty bang. 

“She even sounds delicious,” James hissed, raising the poker once more. 

His words had garnered David’s attention and as the poker sliced through the air again, David held up his arm to protect his head. He ground his teeth through the pain, his arm on fire from the breaking bones as James struck him yet again even harder. A third strike was intercepted by Snow, who draped herself over James’ arm in an attempt to make the poker too heavy to wield. Her intention was to allow David precious time to get to his feet, but James had other ideas and shook her off with little effort. Snow flew across the room, crashing into the globe where David once was, her head hitting the metal framework and knocking her out cold.

“No!” David yelled, shaking legs carrying him to his feet. His arm throbbed painfully and all he could do with the useless appendage was clutch it to his chest.

“She’s a fighter,” James declared gleefully. “I’m going to take great pleasure in making her submit to her new alpha.”

“Not if I can help it,” Killian interrupted from the doorway, Emma rushing past him and straight to her mother’s limp body. 

James smirked again. “Now would you look at that, the mongrel has come to help,” he teased, looking between David and Killian. “Are you sure you’re on the right side, boy?” James taunted again, addressing Killian but motioning to David with a wave of the poker he still held. “Your alpha isn’t looking so good.”

“Come closer and let me look at my new one,” Killian spat, balling his fists at his sides. Behind him, he could hear Emma trying to rouse her mother, the tiny wisp of a wolf out cold and propped up against the wall.

“You don’t think I’d be that naive, do you?” James laughed. He grabbed David by the hair, wrenching his brother in front of him like he were his captive, the sharp point of the poker digging into David’s neck. David squirmed as much as his body would allow, eyes pinched tightly closed, neck straining against James’ hold. “Look at him,” James growled, tightening his grip on David’s greying locks. “Look at the wolf you chose to follow!”

“I’d rather follow an alpha who is just and good than the likes of you,” Killian bit out through clenched teeth. 

“This wolf?!” James screeched, yanking his brother’s head again. “Just and good?” He laughed sadistically at the hissing sound David made, digging the poker into his neck even harder. “Whatever you _think_ you know about your so called alpha is wrong, boy, let me tell you that.”

“Leave the boy out of this,” David choked out, drawing Killian’s attention. Killian locked eyes with David, the plea of help in his alpha’s eyes not going unnoticed. David was tired, even Killian could see that, and his injuries meant he could not readily defend himself anymore, but the intentional flick of David’s gaze towards the sword over the fireplace was an unmistakable sign.

“I know my alpha would never do anything without a good reason.” Killian took a step forward, easing his gait sideways so he was closer to the fireplace. 

“I think that’s close enough,” James warned, taking a step back and pulling David with him.

“I know my alpha would fight for family, blood or not.” Another step forward and Killian was beside the fireplace, a cold draft coming from the chimney and making his skin tingle.

“Family!” James barked. “Don’t make me laugh! The fact that you stuck your dick in his princess, does not make you family.” 

“And you are?” David coughed out, the poker still digging into his throat. He made another determined motion towards the sword, wrestling with James’ grip on his hair to distract him.

“I am the rightful heir of Misthaven!” James bellowed into David’s ear, causing the man to flinch. “You were not supposed to have pups, and you were supposed to have died the first time we fought, but instead you managed to somehow win and send me to the miserable existence of mongrels!”

“I exiled you so you could live!” David argued back, pushing his shoulders against James in an attempt to move him further from Killian. 

“I guess, without your _mercy,_ I would never have had the time to plan my revenge,” James growled, his words almost a whisper in David’s ear. His face was turned, lips so close to his face, that it gave David the window he was looking for to gain back the upper hand.

“Now, Killian!” David yelled, and before James knew what was happening, the young wolf had plucked the Nolan sword from its stand above the fireplace and was pointing it directly at him. 

Killian toyed with the grip, shuffling the sword in his hand until it felt just right, his intense stare fixed on James the entire time. James smirked evilly once more and motioned to the sword with a nod.

“And what do you think you are going to do with that?” he mocked, watching the glint of the blade. “You can’t get to me, not with your precious alpha in the way.”

“David!” Snow cried out, her pained voice slightly raspy from her groggy state. Emma held her down, keeping her mother on the floor, the scene before her newly conscious state too much for her emotions. Tears pricked at her eyes and she felt her lip tremble at the sight of her beaten mate.

“Oh good,” James chimed sickly sweet. “My new mate has woken to watch her old one die.”

Killian turned at the sound of Snow’s voice, his worry more for Emma than anything, and he instantly regretted the decision when James jabbed the tip of the poker into his shoulder. The force was so hard that the iron spike buried itself into his flesh as deep as the curvature of the hook, Killian’s reactive flinch tearing the tool from James’ grasp. He cried out, swinging back to face his attacker, sword held firm in his hand and his jaw clenched together so tightly he thought he might crack a tooth.

“Oh, so you do have a little wolf in you,” James grinned sarcastically. “I was starting to worry that Dave here had let his daughter shack up with a disgusting human.”

“Killian, don’t listen to him,” David said hurriedly. “Use the sword,” he instructed with a nod, his chin rubbing on James’ arm that held him in place.

“No!” Emma cried out, jumping to her feet. 

Alerted by all of the commotion, Graham appeared, making his entrance through the doorway and bumping into Emma. He gripped her arms, careful not to let her fall backwards, before the look of panic on her face made him turn to the scene before her. James had David in a headlock, like a human shield, and Killian was just feet away with the sharp end of the Nolan sword pointed directly at them both.

Graham caught David’s eyes, and with a nod of silent understanding between both of them, Graham kept his grip on Emma’s arms, holding her back from stopping Killian. Killian looked back at her briefly, the pain etched into her features too heavy a cross to bear as tears streamed down the pink hues of her cheeks like lines in the sand.

“Killian, please,” she whimpered, struggling against Graham’s hold. “We don’t know which Nolan is on the headstone.”

“ _Killian, please_ ,” James mimicked, tightening his grip on his brother. “It’s me or him, boy. Which is it?”

“Run me through,” David choked out, and Killian gulped hard. The sounds of Emma and Snow sobbing behind him wrenched at his heart, but the thought of James living a single day longer angered Killian to his very soul. “Killian, I command you as your alpha, to run me through!”

“No!” Snow shouted, a crumpled heap on the floor.

“NOW!” David shouted and Killian obeyed, charging forward and thrusting the sword into David’s shoulder.

The blade hit resistance, probably David’s shoulder blade, but Killian pushed it through and ignored David’s screams of agony. Killian didn’t stop until he felt a weight on the sword, James’ lifeless body pinned to his twin’s as the pointed tip of the sword pierced straight through David’s left shoulder and up through James’ body. David had ducked at the exact moment Killian charged, and the upward degree of the sword had penetrated James’ heart and exited through his back.

Killian stumbled back, releasing the grip on the sword in shock, unsure as to the fate of his alpha. Both Nolans fell limp to the ground, James’ arm slung over the body of David’s like they were embracing as they had done in the womb. Snow let out a shriek and rushed to the fallen men, Emma finally escaping Graham’s grasp and following her mother with her vision blinded by tears.

“I was just obeying a command,” Killian gulped, his face white with shock as he watched Emma shake her father’s lifeless body. “I was just obeying my alpha.”

\--

Killian was numb. Who would have thought that the first command his alpha would give him would be to stab him? Killian felt a shiver run over his skin at the memory, Emma’s cries of pain and sorrow still echoing in his ears like they were still happening. In reality the house had fallen deathly silent, the only sound he could hear being the soft clatter of Ruby’s metal medical tools beside him. Killian stared out of the window opposite from where he was sitting, with a glazed over expression that didn’t even flinch when Ruby dug her gloved finger into his shoulder wound.

“I’m just making sure there is no debris left in here, okay?” she said soothingly, but Killian gave no response. “I swear, you guys are only my friends so I can patch you up.” Her joke was met with silence and a slight gulp as Ruby inserted the tip of a syringe full of saline, pushing the plunger and squirting the cold, sterile liquid into Killian’s wound. He should have moved, flinched away maybe, but he felt paralyzed, continuing to stare out of the window.

“You did the right thing,” Ruby assured him, catching the overflow of bloody fluid with a huge mesh gauze pressed tentatively to his shoulder blade.

“You were not there,” Killian mumbled monotonously. Images of David’s face, eyes wide with fear, were etched into his eyelids, and there every time he blinked. “You don’t-” Killian paused, holding his jaw shut.

“I know,” Ruby agreed in a motherly tone. 

She let her gloved hands still on his bare back, eyes skimming over the scars left by years of trying to find out who he was. What he was. Ruby would never understand what Killian was feeling, what he had felt his entire life, especially since his mother had died, but the man she was standing behind now was nothing like the boy she knew as a kid. He was different, and it wasn’t because he had taken a life, or because he would again, but because his humanity was eating him up inside.

“You know this would heal faster if you were in wolf form,” Ruby pointed out with a shrug.

“Perhaps,” Killian mumbled.

“Oh, he can speak,” Ruby teased, but gained no other response as she laid a square of gauze over the hole in Killian’s shoulder and taped it in place.

“Maybe this is why mongrels rarely survive past puberty,” he huffed, ignoring her jibe, tearing his gaze from the window and forcing his head down so he was staring at his hands. 

“Hey now,” Ruby insisted, moving to stand in front of him. “Look at me.” She grabbed his scruffy cheeks in her hands and lifted his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. “David is fine,” she told him firmly, latex covered thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ve patched him up, and you missed everything vital, you hear me? So stop feeling sorry for yourself and buck up.”

Killian’s mouth twitched into a weak smile and he stifled a snort in the back of his throat. Ruby gave him one in return, her cheeks a little more full since having Davin, but still the same pale shade of creamy white they had always been. Killian lowered his head again and Ruby let him, dropping her hands to his lap where her fingers tangled with his.

“You’re my friend, Killian,” she told him. “I’ve known you a long ass time,” she chuckled and was relieved to see his shoulders bounce with a little laugh of his own. “You are brave, and strong and you know what else?”

Killian lifted his head to meet her gaze again, giving her a questioning smile.

“This,” Ruby emphasised, pressing her hand to Killian’s bare chest, right over his heart. He looked down at her hand, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “This is what sets you apart-” she began, but Killian cut her off.

“Everyone has a heart, Red,” he sighed.

“Shut up, and listen to me,” Ruby said quickly, slapping his torso playfully. She rested her hand back over his heart, stretching her fingers to flatten her hand over the entire feel of his heartbeat. “Your heart is so big, Killian, and so full of love, but having a heart so big always comes with a price.”

Killian looked up at her again. “I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Well, this is your heart and you are stuck with it,” Ruby told him with a grin. “I for one wouldn’t have it any other way, and I know someone else who feels the same way.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Killian said sadly, inhaling a huge, deep breath and pulling his hands from hers. Ruby stood back a bit, arms crossed over her chest and her weight resting on one side as she stared him down with a knowing look. Killian shifted under her gaze like a naughty child. “I stabbed her father, Ruby,” he said matter of factly.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Because he told you to.”

“I didn’t even stop to think about what might have happened if David had died,” Killian added, eyes moving to a random spot on the hardwood floor.

“But he had,” Ruby insisted. “Look, I don’t pretend to know everything about werewolves, because I’m learning as I go along, but you know as well as I do that David would not have risked his life without good reason.”

“But-” Killian tried to interject but Ruby silenced him.

“Or if he thought his family would not be looked after in his absence.” Killian looked at her again, brows knitting together in a frown. “David trusts you, like he trusts Graham.”

“He ordered my execution, you know,” Killian told her quickly.

“Oh, details,” Ruby teased with a wave of her hand. “That was all before he realised who you are,” she said more seriously, holding his gaze. “What you could be.”

Killian stared at her for the longest time before he realised she was right. In the short time David had known him, he realised Killian was someone to be trusted. That took a huge amount of effort from a wolf, especially if the other party was a mongrel, but Killian had obviously shown David something worthy of his credence. It spoke volumes about who David was, and how, even though the mercy he had shown his brother came back to haunt him, he was confident that showing Killian the same mercy would do no harm.

With a small smile, Killian realised it too. David was a big enough man to realise that not everyone was evil like James, and even if he had made mistakes in the past, Killian would atone for them in the future. And with David’s guidance, who knew what he would achieve?

“I could be a father,” Killian beamed up at his friend, a pink hue shadowing his cheeks.

“And you’d be a great one,” Ruby added with a smirk, her red coated lips stretched wide on her face.

“A husband,” Killian breathed, his heart swelling at the thought.

“You have to stop proposing like that.” Emma’s voice drew both their attentions to the doorway where she stood, shoulder leaning against the frame and head resting on her fingers that gripped the jamb beside her head. 

Ruby grinned wider, her heart fluttering like she was reading a sappy romance novel and Killian and Emma were the main love interests. She cleared her throat a little, tenderly patting Killian on the shoulder in a silent goodbye as she headed towards the door. 

“I’m going to go check on your father,” Ruby told Emma and gave her a smile that said she wasn’t really. 

Emma nodded a thanks and let her pass, the room suddenly much bigger without her there. Killian felt his heart stop when Emma looked back at him, her hair haphazardly combed flat by her fingers and tied up into a bun on the back of her head. Wisps hung loose here and there, and her eyes were reddened from crying, but when she smiled at him, Killian felt like he had found the serenity he needed. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered sheepishly.

“Don’t be,” Emma shrugged. She stepped into the room, letting the door swing closed with a creak of the wood, the latch clicking into place behind her. She made her way across the floor until she was standing in front of him, his knees automatically parting to accommodate her between his thighs. “You were following orders. My father is fine. Ruby said he’ll be a little sore, but he’ll live, thanks to you.”

“And what of your uncle?” Killian asked softly, his arms wrapping around her thighs and holding her in place. 

“Dead,” Emma answered with the tiniest hint of spite in her voice. “And Walsh. And Felix. The others turned and ran when they heard of James’ demise.” 

Emma ground her teeth at the thought of what they had done to not just her family, but the wolf she loved. Her hands found Killian’s bare shoulders and skimmed over the width of them, down his upper arms and then back up over the curve of his shoulder joints until her hands found his neck, cradling his head in her hands. Killian tilted his head back so he could look at her and sighed happily. “And you’re okay,” Emma smiled, thumbs brushing the apples of his cheeks.

“Are you?” Killian asked, a concerned frown on his face when he noticed the swelling under Emma’s eye. It wasn’t from crying, and he reached up, his fingertips hovering over the bruise, hand quickly curling into an angry fist at the thought of someone hurting her. 

“You should see the other guy,” Emma laughed, catching his hand in hers and bringing his bloodied knuckles to her lips. She kissed the ridges of his knuckles slowly, letting her lips linger on the swollen joints in an attempt to chase away the pain. When she was satisfied, Emma clutched Killian’s hand to her chest and sighed. “I’m okay,” she assured him with a small nod.

“We’re alright.” Killian nodded back, pulling his hand free from her grip and snaking his arms around her legs once more. He pulled her to him, burying his face in her stomach, inhaling the scent of her through her sweater and feeling nothing but relief and love. 

Emma’s hands skimmed over his bare back, hands moving to cradle his head to her body as she bent forward and planted a kiss to his messy black locks. She heard him hum in content, his grip tightening on her like he might lose her if he let her go. Emma would never leave, she was tied to him by fate, but she wasn’t sure that it would be enough. 

Each time he had fake proposed, her stomach had flipped over at the mere idea of being his mate, and Killian had given her a glimpse of what it would feel like to finally be cherished. That was what he did after all. Killian looked at her like she were the rarest gem in the entire world, and protected her just as fiercely. Emma had no doubt he would make a wonderful mate and, when the time came, a wonderful father.

“And-” Emma began, the word stretched as it left her mouth.

“And what, love?” Killian looked up at her, chin resting against her stomach so he didn’t have to leave her warmth for even a second.

“And I’m going to kiss you now, so that you understand I know your obedience to my father is testament to how great a wolf you are.” 

Killian could tell Emma was trying to be serious, but his lips tugged into a sideways smirk as she lowered her mouth to his. “Ready when you are, love,” Killian whispered, their lips almost touching. His eyes flickered between Emma’s sea greens and her lips, waiting until they pulled into the smile he loved to see before crushing her mouth with his. 

Emma kissed him back, pushing hard against his lips and causing his body to tilt backwards on the bed he was sitting on. He almost lost his balance, eagerly pushing back against her, tongue dipping between her lips and exploring the ridges of her teeth as his arms tightened their hold around her waist. For a second he let up, hands parting long enough to trace the curve of her behind with an explorer’s eagerness, only for Emma to move and straddle his lap. The bed dipped under their combined weight and Killian held her to him, careful not to let her fall backward as she kissed him, pouring all of the relief and emotion she had left into letting him know just how much she loved him.

Finally, with a gasp of breath, they parted and Emma rested her forehead against his, fingers toying with the light wisps of hair at the base of his skull. Killian brushed the back of his knuckles over Emma’s cheek, eyes closed in an attempt to savour the moment.

“Ask me again,” Emma whispered.

“Ask you what?” Killian teased with a faux look of confusion. His eyes fluttered open to meet hers, and even though he knew exactly what she wanted him to ask, the chance to make her smile with a light hearted taunt was too good to pass up.

“I swear, Killian,” Emma rolled her eyes, playfully giving his lengthy beard a little tug.

Killian gasped audibly, neck craning away from her in mock shock. “Is that a vow?”

Emma smirked coyly and Killian’s heart just about melted at how happy she looked. She looked like before, when they had first met, when there wasn’t a single care in their world. Like she could look into their future. “It could be, if-”

“If I asked you to marry me?” Killian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a boyish smirk at the same time.

“Maybe.” Emma couldn’t stop the way she was grinning like an idiot on his lap, fingers interlocked behind his head so she didn’t fall.

“Well, love, I’m not even wearing a shirt, I’ve got a hole in my shoulder and I’m disgustingly smelly.” Killian sighed dramatically.

“I’d still say yes, you know, when you ask me.” Emma smirked.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Killian conceded. He cleared his throat a little, for dramatic effect, and when he looked back at the woman in his arms, Emma was grinning like an excited child. “Emma Nolan, will you-”

“Yes!” She squealed, cutting off his proposal as she bounced in his lap. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, peppering his face with kisses.

“Is that a yes?” Killian teased, trying not to drop her as she wriggled.

Emma didn't need to talk anymore. She had given him her answer in words, and just in case he wasn’t sure, she grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her smile to his for a kiss that meant more than a thousand words could ever say.

\--

_Eight Months Later_

Since the attack, Misthaven had rebuilt what had been broken, and things had returned to normal. And there were more changes, not just to Misthaven, but to werewolf kind. Once he had recovered, David had consulted the werewolf council on his proposed changes to allow interspecies relations, as well as the acceptance of mongrels as equals. There would be an adjustment period, obviously, and the council had some reservations, but in the months since the changes had been put into effect, the results were promising.

Nothing had changed in reality. There had been minimal instances of hostility between humans and werewolves, and even though it was still protocol for werewolves to not expose themselves unless they were absolutely sure of a human’s trust, so far things had gone smoothly. The number of werewolves who had human spouses was surprisingly high, and David was suddenly hit with an influx of union requests as humans wanted to join the world of werewolves forever.

As alpha, David’s role spanned many things, but one of his favourite pastimes, was officiating unions. Unlike humans, werewolves were joined in a marriage type ceremony called a union, consisting of the couple being tied together with the union cloth whilst David recited the pledge of union from The Chronicle. There were no vows like a human wedding, but the wolf marrying into the family was traditionally required to provide a gift to his or her new mate.

Each time a pup was born, werewolf parents would plant a tree in the ground of their home. The tree represented the pups growth; each year it stood as a testament to the life the werewolf it was planted for, had endured. It was like a tree of life, and upon the death of the werewolf it was planted for, the tree would be cut down and a casket made from the wood. It was a custom werewolves had and one that David was unwilling to change. 

For over fifty years David’s tree had stood proudly next to an identical one, both of them planted on the same day by their father. David’s still stood, but following the death of his twin, David had single handedly hacked at James’ tree until it had fallen, as had his brother, only leaving a stump in its place. James was many things, but he was still a werewolf, and David would never disrespect tradition, giving his brother the burial all werewolves deserved.

Emma’s tree had been planted far away from the main house at Misthaven in an open patch of meadow that received the highest levels of sunshine and rain. Because she was so little when she was born, David had wanted to give her tree the best possible chance at flourishing, and it had, just like his beautiful daughter. David had tended the tree almost as much as he had his daughter, making it big and strong, for the day she would need it.

Today was that day.

The sun was shining as bright as ever, high in the sky over the huge white marquee that cast a shadow over the few seated guests. Two rows of wooden chairs painted white were parted by a long, white runner made of silk that laid along the ground leading up to Emma’s tree. After so many years it was just right, a modest sized trunk, covered in gnarled bark and moss, shaded under a huge canopy that swayed gently in the breeze and allowed small patches of sun to peek through like glitter.

Killian stood at the end of the runner, barefoot and dressed head to toe in white linen. The material of his shirt was so thin, it was almost see through, the buttons at his neckline were undone to expose the silky texture of his chest hair and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. Killian’s hair was trimmed to a length he knew Emma would still appreciate, and was combed away from his face. His beard had been trimmed too, the whole length almost gone and replaced with a light ginger scruff. 

“Nervous?” Liam asked from beside him. 

Killian turned to his brother with a long exhale. “Petrified,” he muttered, anxiously rubbing his hands together.

Liam smiled warmly, placing his hand on Killian’s shoulder as they awaited Emma’s arrival. He was dressed in a similar outfit to Killian, only his sleeves were rolled down and his shirt buttoned to the top of the mandarin collar. Liam looked out into the small crowd, the setting not much unlike a human wedding, and locked eyes with his date, her rosy cheeks and sweet smile mirroring his as he gave her a nod.

“Elsa looks beautiful,” Killian said softly, interrupting his brother’s trance. Liam’s cheeks tinted with blush as his hand slipped from Killian’s shoulder to rub the back of his neck that had suddenly become too hot. His silence told Killian all he needed to know about his brother’s new relationship - Liam was blushing like a teenager over a pretty girl.

“Speaking of beautiful,” Liam gasped, mouth hanging open as everyone in their seats turned to look behind them. 

Killian followed their gaze, lifting his head until his eyes locked with Emma’s at the end of the silk runner. His breath was stolen, ripped right out of his lungs at how wonderful she looked, his heart taking off in his chest with more than just his nerves. Emma’s gown was amazing, green velvet trimmed with gold ribbon reaching all the way to the ground, her bare feet hidden underneath it. Killian held his breath, transfixed on the she-wolf in front of him whose hair was braided around the back of her head, each section interlaced with golden ribbon that matched her gown.

With a joyful smile, Emma looked at the man beside her, David Nolan - her father, her alpha and the wolf who was to tie her to Killian forever. As they made their way down the aisle, a silence over the small crowd of friends and family was interrupted by a small, frustrated outburst from Davin Humbert, who was more than annoyed at being held still. At nearly nine months old, he was advancing well for a werewolf pup, already walking and causing mischief when he could, so when his mother held him still, he wanted none of it.

He stilled a little when he saw his father following David and Emma down the aisle, and Graham managed to silence the tot with a wink. Graham was filling the role of witness, one that would have previously gone to Emma’s Uncle James. Unfortunate events had lead to his demise, but David was nothing if not resourceful, rewriting the section of the Chronicle that said Emma could only wed with a blood relative present, other than her parents. Graham had agreed when she had asked him, and with Liam as Killian’s witness, the criteria was met.

“Friends, family, human or otherwise, thank you all for coming today,” David announced as he neared the tree. He stopped, turning to face the crowd to present Emma. “My daughter, Emma Nolan, hereby invites you to bear witness of her union to Killian Jones, under this - her life tree.” David motioned above his head to the huge canopy of bright green leaves that rustled gently in the warm breeze as if in approval of Emma’s choice of mate. “This tree was planted to signify life,” David called out over the crowd, releasing Emma’s hand long enough to reach up and pull a fruit from one of the branches overhead. “Now it provides the ingredient for a future generation.”

Killian had been told that a werewolf wedding was different, but he had no idea how beautiful it could be. The symbolism was something he had never understood about werewolf lore until this exact moment, something David had assured him he would truly feel on the day of his union. 

“Killian, Emma,” David addressed the couple, moving each of them so they were facing each other. David took a breath, swallowing down the emotions that threatened to break his voice at the sight of his happy daughter. It had taken him a while, but he had now come to realise why Emma marrying Graham was such a bad idea, and the smile she wore sealed his decision. 

David reached for Killian’s hand, lifting it out in front of him and instructing him to cup his hand as if holding a ball. He did as he was told, and David sat the picked fruit into his palm before taking Emma’s hand and resting it over the top. With the small fruit encased in their hands, David motioned for Graham and Liam, who worked together to wrap a long, centuries old union cloth around their hands and forearms. It tied them together, and as Liam and Graham stepped back, David rested his hand over theirs, giving each of them a nod.

“Are you ready?” David whispered to them, smiling at his daughter with pride.

“Aye,” Killian beamed excitedly, catching Emma’s gaze and giving her a boyish grin. “This is the best moment of my entire life,” he told her so only she could hear.

“Mine too,” Emma replied with a slight blush.

David cleared his throat, giving Emma a wink as he did, before settling into the role of union officiant. Chest puffed out, he began, no longer needing the Chronicle to recite from, the words imprinted into his brain from so many unions before. Only this one was different. It was one he thought he would never see. “These are the hands that will turn into the paws that run beside you,” he began, nodding his head towards where all three of their hands were piled together. “Not in front to lead, or behind to follow, but in step with one another as you head towards your future.”

Killian’s lips twitched into a small smile, his blue eyes locked with Emma’s green hues that somehow looked even more spectacular in the glimpse of sunlight breaking through the canopy of her tree. He could hear a soft sniffle as someone in the crowd began to cry, most likely Mary Margaret from what he had learned of the woman over the last few months. “These are the hands that will wipe the tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and tears of joy,” David continued, looking between them before scanning the small crowd’s front row until he found Snow, dabbing her eyes with a small tissue clutched in her hand. “Just as they have before.” 

Emma felt Killian reach out with his free hand and pluck hers from her side. He didn’t know if he was supposed to, and he didn’t care, because the unspoken truth between them was that they had shared more tears than they should have, experienced more trauma than anyone should have, and still, through it all, they had endured and were here now, with each other. Forever.

“I love you,” he mouthed silently, giving her a warm smile. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance when she dipped her head, blushing. “These are the hands that will tenderly hold your pups, the hands that will plant this seed for them as you make a pack of your own.” David’s voice cracked a little at his own words, the thought of grandpups something he would’ve never thought was possible. Emma marrying Graham would have never resulted in pups, he could see that now, and as he watched the way Killian looked upon his daughter, like she was the only wolf in the world, David wondered how he could have ever thought an arranged marriage was a good idea.

“Finally, these are more than hands,” he said with a booming voice, loud enough that all could hear. “These are the paws of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your union day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever.”

Killian couldn’t contain his excitement any longer and lifted their free hands to his lips and kissed the back of Emma’s hand. Her stomach flipped, butterflies creeping all the way up to the back of her throat, and she was thankful he was holding it so tightly, lest their guests know how much she was shaking.

“Today, tomorrow and forever,” Killian repeated. 

David removed his hand from theirs and lifted them, palms flattened together as much as the fruit between them would allow.

“Today, tomorrow and forever,” Emma added after her mate, her fingers lacing between his as previously instructed, and locking their hands together. 

David gave them a moment as they shared a long look, eyes saying what words could never portray before he stepped forward again and began to unwrap the union cloth from their joined hands. Killian didn’t move, neither did Emma, their entire beings froze as if they wanted to live this moment forever.

“Killian?” David prompted gently, and Killian tore his eyes from Emma to look at her father. “As is custom, you are to present Emma with a gift of union. Do you have something for your mate?”

“Aye,” Killian stammered, his cheeks turning pink. He let his free hand slip from Emma’s and patted at his pants pocket, the linen unable to hide anything, but as he felt nothing, he began to sweat a little along his hairline. He patted the other side frantically, awkwardly twisting back and forth between the two pockets before he felt Liam’s strong hand on his shoulder and turned to see the chain and pendant dangling from his finger.

“You gave it to me for safe keeping, brother,” Liam whispered, offering his brother a grin.

Killian gave his brother an appreciative nod and took the chain, holding it out for Emma. “Emma,” he began, watching as she held out her hand. “This was my mother’s, and I kept it all these years in the same place, waiting, hoping, it would find it’s new home one day.” Killian let the chain pool in her hand, the emerald stone in the ring reflecting a single patch of sunlight that shone through the canopy. “I kept it close to my heart,” he told her, folding her fingers over the jewellery and holding them closed. “Now that you hold my heart, the ring should go with it.”

Emma felt her eyelids prickle, the well of tears in her eyes blurring her vision. She felt a lump in her throat, a thickness that she tried to swallow but couldn’t. Killian gave her a soft smile, letting a single tear roll from her eyelid before brushing it away with the pad of his thumb. The sobs from the crowd grew louder and apparently infectious, because from behind him, Killian heard Liam sniffle too.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Killian smirked, pulling her hand until they were even closer.

“Like you mean it,” Emma teased with a happy laugh, arching her body towards his.

“Always,” Killian promised, tugging her the last few inches until there was no space between them and their lips met. 

The sound of the crowd cheering them on gave Killian the energy to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping between Emma’s lips in search of her own. She arched away but he chased her playfully, holding her to him and trying to ignore the way she giggled against his mouth. He nipped at her lips, foreheads pressed together and hearts so full of love they almost didn’t hear David trying to hush the crowd.

“Please,” he bellowed, waving his hands. “I have something else for the newly bonded mates,” he announced, the crowd falling silent as everyone sat back in their seats.

“Dad?” Emma questioned quickly, giving her father a frown that just made him respond with a smile.

“Killian, my boy,” he addressed the young wolf in front of him, the term of endearment making Killian grin with pride. “I understand, in the human world, it is customary for the couple bonded to receive a gift?”

“Aye, sir,” Killian nodded, pulling Emma harder into his side. “It’s normally something for the couple to start their new life together.”

David nodded in thought, moving to stand next to Emma. He gave Graham a nod, another one of their silent signals, and he simply nodded back, heading into the crowd to sit with Ruby and Davin. They were married a few months ago, and had a similar ceremony under an old oak tree on Ruby’s farm. Neither of them had a life tree, but together they had planted one for Davin. The boy jumped into his arms almost immediately, hanging from him like a small primate as Graham ruffled his hair and praised him for being such a good boy.

“Friends, family,” David called out to the crowd, causing Emma and Killian to share a confused look. David took Emma’s hand, gripping it tightly in his as he waited for the guests to settle. “Many of you know that due to recent events, the union of werewolves and humans is now permitted.” David looked over the confused faces in the crowd before continuing. “And with the death of my brother, Neverland is in need of a new alpha to show them the way.”

Emma shook her head gently, confused by the joyful smile on her mother’s face as she watched her father address the guests. 

“Graham and Ruby will go and run Neverland,” he announced, motioning his beta to him with a crooked finger. Killian followed his direction, watching Graham rise to his feet and return to his place behind Emma. He was still confused until David turned to him and held out his hand. “Misthaven needs a new beta, Killian,” David began confidently, gently nodding to his hand to let Killian know how to accept his offer. “What do you say? Will you stand at my side?” David looked at Emma with a warm smile. “Both of you.”

“It would be my honor, sir,” Killian rasped, his throat closing up with emotion. David grabbed his hand, shaking only long enough to seal their contract before pulling him right out of Emma’s grasp and into a manly hug.

“Stop calling me sir,” David laughed. “Call me Dave,” he whispered into Killian’s ear. 

As the two men parted, Graham stepped forward, grabbing Killian and Emma’s attention with a small wave of his hand. 

“I have a little something for you guys too.” He grinned, quickly glancing at Ruby, who gave him a nod. “Ruby and I took it upon ourselves to spruce up the cabin.”

“The one in the woods?” Emma enquired grabbing Killian’s hand excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Graham nodded. He gave them both a boyish smile, nervously tugging on his ear lobe. “We thought you guys could use the privacy, you know, for your sealing ritual.”

A werewolf union was a little different from a human wedding. Whilst all of the guests partied and celebrated the newly bonded couple over drinks, dancing, and music, they were to take advantage of the fullest moon the night had to offer, and run. Werewolves traditionally married on a full moon, and Emma and Killian had waited for the day that offered them the brightest phase at night for their sealing ritual. 

For three nights, over the course of the full moon, the bonded pair were not to be seen by family or friends, instead sealing their union under the protection of the forest and the glow of the moon. Times had changed but the ritual was essentially the same, except now it was acceptable to bend the rules a little and take advantage of the luxuries in life. Graham’s cabin, well hidden in the depths of the forest would be perfect.

“Thank you, mate,” Killian smiled at him, wide eyed and in awe of the gesture.

“We want you to enjoy your sealing,” Graham mumbled into Emma’s hair as he planted a quick kiss to her crown. “And besides, it saves getting leaves up your arse,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around a very grateful couple and pulling them into his torso for a hug. 

When he let him go, Killian couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief. He had never felt so accepted in his whole life, or loved, and it was all thanks to the wonderful she-wolf at his side. Eyes darkened with a hint of desire, Killian pulled Emma to him again, enjoying the way she squealed as he crushed her lips with his own, spinning them around and dipping her towards the cheers and wolf whistles of the crowd. 

“Blessed be this union!” David announced gleefully, throwing his hands into the air in celebration.

“Blessed be this union!” the crowd echoed, everyone jumping to their feet and applauding the newly paired mates.

\--

They had shed their clothes, leaving them in Emma’s truck that was parked well away from the road where it wouldn’t be disturbed. The last thing they wanted after running for three days was to return to the spot where they had left their vehicle, naked and covered in the dirt of the forest, only for it to have been towed or broken into. Not that any of that crossed the mind of a werewolf in wolf form, especially one who had just been tied to another. 

They could find the cabin on foot, Graham’s secluded hand built log house well hidden in the depths of the trees. Emma had been there once, and she had almost fallen in love with the place; there was a tiny pang of jealousy towards her friend at how he could so easily escape the regime of Misthaven. Before she had met Killian, Emma felt trapped, held back by her father’s constant rules and the life he wanted her to lead, that she never thought in a million years she would be running through the darkened forest with her mate at her heels.

Branches whipped at her face, the prickly thorns snagging in her thick pelt, some extremely long ones tugging out the tri coloured hair in huge tufts. Killian was right behind her, his wolfish pants fogging the air in front of his face as he kept his pace, twigs snapping and leaves crunching under his massive paws. They raced through a patch of open ground, the grass was knee high to a human and the smell of nocturnal flowers filled their nostrils as they disturbed them with every few steps.

Emma slowed her gallop, the rustle of the grass fading away as she almost came to a stop, spinning around to face the black wolf behind her. Killian cocked his head to one side and gave her a big, dopey wolf grin, lowering his head a little as he contemplated her reason. Emma let out an excited whine, her tail lifting and swishing the small of her long back as she stepped forward and bumped her nose into his. As soon as the dry leather touched his, Killian’s tongue darted out, licking at her maw and playfully mouthing her whole muzzle.

Emma’s tail continued to wag, one front paw reaching out to scratch at Killian’s shoulder. He jumped sideways, a soft growl escaping his throat as he bounded around her, flattening the grass as he moved. Emma’s ears pricked up, her whole body stiffening with anticipation of his next move. Even in wolf form he could surprise her, and her tail slowed it’s movements enough that she was statue still in the meadow opening. Killian growled again, the silver of the moon catching the faded skin of his scars, until he spun around excitedly and then dropped into a playful bow right in front of her.

Emma’s whole body flinched, his antics reminding her so much of the first time they had met. The moon was full that night too and like a beacon, it had led her directly to Killian, who would change her life forever. Emma’s claws dug into the ground, gaining traction as Killian let out a ‘play with me’ bark, too high pitched for his size, but an indication of his happiness nonetheless. Emma bounced on her feet, jabbing the grass between them, pretending to lunge at him, and Killian jumped back away from her, wide eyed and full of his own anticipation.

He spun around, his nose almost touching his tail and his vision blurry, before digging his claws into the grass and stopping dead. He huffed a breath, eyes scanning the meadow, but Emma was gone. He let out a whine but was met with silence. Killian pricked his ears high on his head and held his breath, straining to hear anything over the sounds of the forest.

The leaf littered floor of the forest crunching under his huge paws and he tilted his head back, nose twitching in the cold air of the night, pupils wide to let in as much light as they could in the darkness. Somewhere during his excited puppy like spin, Emma had given him the slip, a game she loved to play when they ran. It was fun, but normally didn’t go in his favour, as Emma always managed to stalk him before he found her.

Not tonight.

Her scent was strong in the wind that had changed direction to his advantage, the tainted breeze drifting right up his nostrils. She was close by, but she smelled different, more enticing than she ever had and Killian’s feet began to move before his brain had fully computed the scent. He had to find her, and he gained speed, ducking under bracken and leaping over fallen logs before he burst through the trees and came face to face with the back of Graham’s cabin.

There were no lights on inside, and in the darkness, he would have missed the shadowy figure that moved across the back porch if it were not for the creak of the deck boards under her bare feet. He knew it was her before she stepped into the moonlight, as naked as the day she was born as she fiddled with the back door handle. She was smeared with mud, her hair messy as she looked for him at the edge of the tree line. Killian sat, tail gently moving the leaves as it wagged across the ground, his ears pinning back on his head as she finally opened the door and slipped inside, beckoning him with a crooked finger and a smirk.

He pushed himself to his feet, closing the distance between him and the cabin in record time, the door slightly ajar to allow him entry. His nose twitched harder as her intoxicating scent assaulted him, her femininity mixed with the smell of soil and bark from where she had run as a wolf, the traces of the forest still lingering on her human skin. Killian poked his nose into the crack of the open door, nudging it further open with his muzzle and finally stepping into the cold, darkened cabin.

Killian padded into the room, his claws tapping on the wooden surface before the sound faded away and huge paws were replaced with human feet, his shift instinctive and almost unnoticed as he scanned the darkness for his mate. He could smell her, his skin practically buzzing from her energy and the lure of her, his lips twitching into a wicked grin as he pushed the door closed behind him.

“Good boy,” Emma purred in the pitch dark and Killian turned around to feel nimble fingers on his chest, nails raking through the softness of his chest hair and a content hum escaping her throat.

“I’m very obedient,” Killian said quickly, his hands finding the naked flesh of her hip and kneading it with a growl. “Mrs. Jones,” he said smoothly, testing the words on his tongue.

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Emma hummed with a smile. She arched her body into his, her nipples brushing his hairy chest and immediately pulling into tight buds. “Say it again,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into the underside of his stubbly chin.

“Mrs. Jones,” Killian rasped, dipping his head and letting his lips brush over hers for a quick kiss. 

Emma’s hand snaked up to the back of his head, fingers lacing into his recently trimmed hair and making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention with a tickle. She held him steady, deepening the kiss with a moan, her entire body melting into his as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him with hands splayed flat on her back. Emma let him hold her, their kiss more desperate than at their union ceremony now that they were alone.

“I’m yours, Killian,” Emma told him softly, licking her bottom lip to make sure she didn’t lose his taste for even a second. “In name, body, and soul.”

“And I am yours, Emma,” Killian replied, stroking a stray tendril of her dishevelled blonde locks away from her forehead. Emma hummed at the contact of his skin on hers, however minute. “I was yours before I even knew it, and I will be forever more.”

“Alii dimidium Lunam,” Emma said with a content smile.

“Aye, love,” Killian nodded in agreement.

They both stood motionless, the only light in the cabin from the moon outside as it shone through the window and bathed them both in its silvery glow. The story of two wolves fated from birth to meet, fall in love and live happily forever after had fascinated Emma since she was young, but she had never thought in a million years she would star in her own fairytale. Killian was her true love, both born under opposing moon phases that, when put together, made a moon so whole and bright it would never disappear.

“What do you say we get this sealing ritual started?” Emma grinned, biting her bottom lip and looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

“I think, Mrs Jones,” Killian begun, bending to scoop her up into his arms without warning. Emma let out a shriek, clutching his neck in an attempt to steady herself as he bounced her into a more comfortable position, her head falling back with excited laughter. “That sounds like a jolly good idea.”

He kissed her again, pulling her tighter against his chest as he did, biceps tensed against her thighs as he held her and began to move through the cabin. The faintest smell of Ruby and baby Davin still lingered in the air but Killian ignored it when he felt Emma’s hand on his cheek, a smile playing across his lips as she kissed him back and hummed in appreciation.

Killian navigated the cabin like he had been there before, expertly missing all of Graham and Ruby’s furniture as he made his way toward a door at the side of the room. It wasn’t a huge doorway, and the paneled door swung open with a light kick, Killian turning sideways and slipping through the opening with his mate still giggling in his arms.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her mouth, peppering her with kisses. “So, so, glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“We’re forever,” Emma sighed happily.

“Forever wouldn’t give me long enough to show you how much I love you,” Killian whispered earnestly. He sought out the bathroom, following the smell of light mildew and damp wood in the darkness, finding his target in next to no time. He carried Emma through the doorway and set her down on a floor, the slate grey tiles slightly heated under her feet.

The bathroom was one bg tiled room, a wet room with just a shower head by one far wall. It was warmer than expected, underfloor heating keeping it at a welcoming temperature even when not in use, and as soon as her feet touched the floor, Emma was on his mouth again, kissing him until he groaned in pleasure. He tasted of coffee and spice, the things Emma had come to think of as home, and she never wanted to stop kissing him.

Reluctantly, Killian broke the kiss and stepped away from her to reach for the faucet on the wall behind him. He turned it on, spinning to face her and shielding her from the cold spray. The water hit his back and he tensed, hiding the grimace on his face with a clenched jaw, much to Emma’s amusement. She hid a giggle behind her hand and watched him squirm, eyes pinched tightly closed until the water began to warm up.

“Cold?” She teased, skimming her hands down his sides until they rested on his hips.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Killian shrugged as the water warmed his back. He closed the gap between them even more, his knees bumping into hers and his hands roaming over her skin. Light fingers tickled her arms, skimming across her shoulders and brushing her still dry hair away from her neck. He gave her a smirk, his eyes darting to look at his target before he pulled her to him even harder and dived into the hollow of her throat.

Emma squealed, the scruff along his chin making her skin itch as he kissed her neck, distracting her long enough to spin them around so she was under the hot, steaming spray. Emma huddled closer to him, a shriek of excitement echoing around the tiled room as Killian flattened his hands to the wall on either side of her so she could not escape the water. His hair became wet, plastering itself to his forehead and he flicked it back from his eyes when Emma sucked in a breath.

“That was cruel,” she whined, brushing a hand over her face to remove the wet hair stuck there.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Killian promised, his voice darkened by his desire.

“Yeah?” Emma gave him a raised eyebrow, her hands finding his face as she held his gaze. 

Killian simply nodded, rolled his bottom lip under his teeth and returned her expression, waggling his eyebrows playfully. His gaze dropped a little, searching out the curves of her body between them, loving the way the change in sudden temperature had made her nipples rock hard. 

“I’m sure I can think of something,” he growled and the rasp of his voice made Emma’s skin tingle with suspense. “I am nothing if not resourceful.”

Before she has time to say anything else, Killian was moving away from her, leaving her under the shower head alone. Confused, she watched as he stalked along one wall of the wet room, his feet leaving wet footprints on the drier tiles outside the reach of the shower head. Plucking a bottle of something from the glass shelving there, he headed back to her with a smile. He popped the cap, closing his eyes as he inhaled the sweet smell of the shower wash in his hands, audibly sighing into the steamed room.

“Turn around,” he said firmly, watching a droplet of water race down between Emma’s breasts. She did as she was told, her throat dry as she tried to swallow, but she quickly gasped when she felt Killian’s hand gather her hair into a loose ponytail and move it to one side. “Relax, love,” he told her, his voice as smooth as silk. “Let me take care of you.”

Emma’s eyelids fluttered closed, the touch of his hands like welcomed fire against her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest in time with the sound of the water, the steady throb of blood rushing in her ears making her involuntarily moan. She couldn’t see him, but as she felt Killian press his lips to the top of her spine, Emma knew he was smiling. 

“Here, love, hold this,” he said softly in her ear, reaching around her front and handing her the bottle of vanilla and cherry blossom shower wash. Emma took it, clutching it to her chest and sighed.

Killian’s hands were on her in no time, smoothing over every inch of her skin, aiding by the water as it trickled over her body. He drew circles across her skin, liquid soap turning into bubbles as a lather formed and washed away the dirt left by the woods. He kneaded her shoulders, rolling the curved joint in his palms whilst pressing his thumb into her shoulder blades, finding a particularly tense ball of muscles there. Emma hissed through her teeth as he went to work, massaging away at the hard lump until he felt it level out under his touch.

“Is that good, my love?” Killian pulled her flush against his chest, the soaking wet hair on his body sticking to her skin. White bubbles formed a slippery layer between them and Killian wrapped an arm around her to secure her in place. His other hand snaked down the curve of her body, trailing across her abdomen where he let his hand linger over her stomach. He flexed his fingers, fingertips prodding her milky flesh as he rested his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled her ear with his nose. “One day, my sweet thing,” he began, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. “It won’t just be me and you.”

Emma smiled, nudging her head into his. She laid her hand over his, interlocking their fingers and giving his a squeeze. “One day,” she agreed sweetly, letting his arms envelop her. “I hope.”

“We’ll have as many pups as you wish,” Killian whispered into her ear.

“Easy, boy,” Emma teased, holding his arms to her body. He made her feel safe, even if ordinarily the words out of his mouth would have her in a panic.

“Whenever you wish,” Killian told her with a kiss to her cheek. “I want to enjoy you all to myself first.”

Emma chuckled and twisted her body in his arms, rolling her body against his until she was facing him. She handed him the bottle and Killian let her move, loosening his grip just enough that she could. The sound of water hitting the floor was silenced by Emma’s body, the hot droplets raining down onto the back of her head and wetting her hair even more. Killian held her as tightly as he could with one hand as she arched her back so she was under the spray even more, righting herself and swiping a hand over her face to rid her eyes of water.

Emma hummed to herself, letting her hands slide over her skin. She pushed the bubbles from her body under a wave of water, feeling them tickle down her smooth legs and off onto the floor where they headed straight for the drain. Then her hands found her neck, a steady stream of water from the shower following its path down the length of it and over the curve of her bosom. Her hands followed, arousing her skin with even the lightest touch so much so, Emma felt her nipples harden again, pulling into tight peaks. A tingle in her belly ignited a throb between her thighs and she couldn’t stop the pleasure induced sigh from escaping her seductively parted lips.

When she peeled her eyes open again, blinking away the hot water that blurred her vision, Killian was staring her down with a predatory look that made her core clench. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in every bump and curve like he was seeing her for the very first time, his appreciative groan lost in the sound of the water as it pounded her back. Emma raked her fingers through her hair, trying to ignore his lustful staring as she plucked a few leaves out, tossing them over her shoulder where they fell to the floor and circled the drainage point.

“Enjoying yourself yet?” Emma asked innocently, giving him a raised eyebrow. 

Killian growled, the effect of her slippery, naked body evident between his legs. He was at half mast, his erection filling with blood as she writhed under her own touch. He licked his lips, trapping it under his teeth before stepping forward and pinning her against the cold tiled wall. He dropped the bottle, the plastic splitting as it hit the tiles, bubbles instantly forming when the shower gel mixed with hot water, and Emma barely had time to gasp before his lips were on hers and his hands were cradling her head.

He kissed her hard and she felt her legs wobble slightly under the assault of his lips, the steam in the room making it hard for both of them to breathe. They were clean enough, Killian had decided, and he reached beside Emma’s body and twisted the faucet to the off position, letting the last few droplets of water splash against his shoulder as they fell from the shower head. Emma giggled under his weight when Killian pressed his hips into hers, his hard length slipping between her thighs with the promise of entry and making her even wetter than she already was.

“Not here,” she managed to choke out. 

“Yes, here,” Killian growled, thrusting his length between her folds with a jerk of his hips. He slipped over the outside of her sex easily, aided by her arousal that was as evident as his was, and one hand found her breast, weighing the flesh in his hand whilst his thumb skimmed over her pert nipple.

“No, Killian,” Emma insisted, her hands pushing weakly against his still wet shoulders. “We can’t have our sealing ritual in the shower.”

Killian lifted his head with a frustrated grunt, lifting his weight off of her body too. “Why not?” He gave her a boyish smirk, one eyebrow raised on his handsome face. Emma gave him a look, narrowing her eyes. “You’re right, love,” Killian conceded. “We can fuck in the shower anytime.”

“Exactly,” Emma nodded with a coy smirk.

“This is our night, to seal our bond forever.” Before Emma had time to agree, Killian was bending down and grabbing her legs, tipping her backward over his shoulder and hoisting her into the air. 

“Killian!” Emma screamed before giggling, her fingers struggling to find a grip on his slippery back. 

“If we only get one go at this,” Killian began ignoring her cries, grabbing a towel as he pulled the wooden door to the bathroom open and all of the steam escaped into the rest of the cabin. Emma laughed at his antics, relaxing as he carried her across the bedroom and threw the towel down on the top of the comforter, his mate following immediately after. Emma hit the mattress with a bounce, barely having any time to recover before Killian grabbed her ankle and pulled her down the bed towards him. “We’d better take our time,” he rasped, locking eyes with her as he knelt down at the foot of the bed. 

Emma’s skin was electric, all of her nerve endings firing at once in anticipation. Killian licked his lips again and gave her the same predatory look he had many times before, a hungry, lust fuelled stare that made her inner muscles clench with need. He smoothed his hands up her inner thighs, holding her legs open for him as he gazed up the glory at the apex of her thighs, her arousal glistening in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to pass through a skylight.

“Make sure we are really thorough,” he croaked like a parched man about to take a drink. “Wouldn’t you agree, love?”

Emma was paralyzed, unable to answer as Killian sealed his lips over her sex and plunged his tongue inside of her. Her back went rigid, arching off the bed and she filled her lungs with a sharp inhale that made her head spin. 

“Fuck,” she sighed, the only word she could muster in her haze. 

“Is that a yes?” Killian teased. He flattened his tongue over her core, lapping up the arousal there as he licked her up to her clit, stopping to suck on the nub that had filled with blood and hardened under his ministrations.

Emma’s hand found his hair, fingers threading into the still damp blackness and yanking on his head until he looked up at her. She bit her bottom lip, hooded eyes locking with his as he poked his tongue out to trace her opening with the tip of it. A fresh wave of desire flooded her core, hotness pooling between her legs at the sight of him licking her out, his blue eyes so darkened with lust that they were almost black. 

“Yes,” Emma breathed, releasing her hold on his hair and letting her hand fall limply to the bed beside her head. “Fuck, yes,” she said in a quaky voice, a particularly forceful suck to her clit making her slam her head into the mattress and her legs shake.

Killian grinned at how he could affect her so easily, her body responding to every little lick, nip, and kiss he was offering. He was greedy, like a starving dog between her legs, slowly ravishing her sex with all the attention she deserved. Killian meant for her to remember this night forever, the sealing ritual an important part of werewolf union, a celebration of their love for each other and good practice for building a pack of their own.

The tell tale quiver in Emma’s thighs was Killian’s first indication of her impending orgasm and he rearranged himself to accommodate the way she was writhing on the bed. He lifted himself onto his knees, wrapping his arms around her legs and holding her sex to his face, almost creating a vacuum with his mouth that sent stars shooting behind her eyes. Emma let out a moan, eyes rolling into the back of her head and her hips rolling against his mouth as she fisted a clump of her own hair in pleasure.

“There,” she sighed, rocking her hips harder. “Killian,” she gasped, the air stolen from her lungs as she ebbed closer to her release.

“Shhh,” Killian soothed, jumping to his feet and trying to ignore the whimper of distaste that came from the she-wolf in front of him. “I’ve got you,” he said gruffly, stroking his length as he positioned himself between her thighs. “I want to feel you, love.”

The tip of him brushed over the dampness of her sex, slipping inside of her, and Emma stiffened in anticipation of his whole girth, begging him with a clench of her inner muscles. Killian licked his thumb quickly, pressing it to her sensitive clit and slowly stroking her back towards her orgasm as he pushed into her. She was tight, even with her slickness, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from spilling himself too soon when he felt her core clench around him. 

Emma visibly shook as he entered her, exhaling all of her breath as she relaxed and welcomed the full feeling only he could give her. When he was fully inside of her, Killian stilled, dragging his fingernails over the skin of her outer thighs lazily, drawing circles and shapes as he watched her silently beg for more. Emma’s face twisted with pleasure, beads of sweat appearing along her brow as she rolled her head towards him and gave him a love drunk stare.

Killian met her with a smile she had never seen before. He was half way between pain and pleasure, the lines etched on his face deeper with his frown as he fought off his own release. Emma smiled coyly, beckoning him with a crooked finger and he wasted no time in leaning over her body until they were face to face. Killian hooked his arms under her shoulders, lifting her a little and angling her body so his erection was seated even deeper inside her.

“Oh,” Emma gasped. “That’s good.”

“You like that?” Killian growled, rolling his hips a little. Her mouth hung open in a silent gasp and Killian smirked, repeating the movement of his hips a little harder. “Aye, love, take all of me. Just like that.”

With another thrust, Killian felt Emma’s muscles contract, pulling him in and holding him in place. The frequency of her throbbing around him grew, and Killian felt like his tip was being massaged inside of her. That was the majesty of the she-wolf beneath him. Emma could make his body cry out for more, fast or slow, and he would love every minute of it either way.

Emma lifted her legs, knees pulled to her chest and Killian helped hold her in place by pressing down on the back of her thighs. It gave him even deeper entry, right to the hilt of his length, and he hissed as her core massaged his length from root to tip.

“You want more?” He rasped huskily, fingernails digging into the flesh of her thighs as he withdrew himself painfully slowly.

Emma bit her lip and nodded, a begging whine escaping her throat. Killian used his weight to fall back into her, his body slamming into hers and her clit hitting his pubic bone so hard she saw white lights behind her eyelids. Killian repeated the action, the whole bed moving under his thrust that made Emma skid up the bed a little with a pleasured cry.

“Faster,” she begged, the only word she could cognitively say. “Faster.”

Killian growled to himself low in his throat, a sound that was a little more wolf than man. He needed a better angle and pulled Emma towards the edge of the bed where she originally was, parting her legs and falling over her body once more until there was no space between them. Emma let out a gasp as his member changed position inside of her, now pointing further towards the front wall of her core and perfectly angled to stimulate her g-spot.

Emma let out a whimper of frustration. She was so close, he could feel it, and all he wanted to give her was her release, but selfishly, Killian wanted to find euphoria with her. They were bonded now, paired in a union that meant they did everything together from now on, however intimate. Killian kissed her face, a gentle caress of lips against her eyelids that was a silent promise of what was to come before he began pistoning his hips into her like she had begged him to.

“Oh, Killian,” Emma chanted over and over, her fingernails clawing over the expanse of his back with every deep, life changing thrust of his hips. His name on her lips just made him pick up the pace, his hands framing her face and holding her steady as he pounded her into the mattress to find their joint release. “Fuck-”

Emma’s struck first, her stolen words fading into a groan of pleasure as her blood pounded in her ears in time with her heartbeat. It was deafening, the roar of her climax rendering her numb to all sound, the high pitch tone of nothing ringing out in her ears. With a grunt, Killian was following her into oblivion, spilling himself inside of her, one last attempt to prolong both their pleasure in the form of a kiss that cast them both out onto the plains of euphoria.

The ferocity of Killian’s kiss eventually slowed to match the rhythm of his hips as they set a more comfortable pace that helped them both down from their heaven. He relaxed his hold on her head, fingers still delicately framing her blissful face that changed with every throb of his spent member inside of her. He was panting heavily against her face as he rolled his forehead against hers with a sigh, whispering his love for her against her lips. It hadn’t been their longest escapade, and it wouldn’t be their shortest, but what it meant was all that mattered.

It meant they were one, two halves of the same moon finally reconnected through fate and time. It meant forever.

Killian lifted his weight first, mindful not to crush Emma under his spent body. His hair fell forward over his forehead and he shook it to the side, his knuckles stroking Emma’s temples as he planted a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Mrs Jones,” he panted huskily, a sense of wolfish pride swelling in his chest at her new title. Emma held his face in her hands, eyes scanning over his features.

“I love you,” Emma whispered, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. “This was perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Killian breathed, stroking hair from her face. He kissed her chin, up to her mouth and lingered there, holding his lips against hers with a content hum. “And I love you more than anything, Emma.”

Not even time would be able to pull them apart and their love would only grow stronger with each obstacle life hindered them with. They hadn’t just fulfilled their destiny. They had rewritten werewolf lore and created a world where love really did conquer all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thank you for coming on this ride with me, from kick-ass beta readers, to bad-ass fans, you are all special to me in your own special way. I love you all, and i love your love for this story! <3 Until the moon is in its next phase ;)


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